It had been a long time since I was back there. That little house on top of the hill.
It had been abandoned for a long time ever since my father sold the place because he wanted to live closer to the city.
I didn’t mind when I was younger. I wanted to get closer to my friends. But as I got older I liked to go back there. The people who had bought it from my father chose not to live there, but for some reason, they couldn’t sell it.
Now it stood there deteriorating.
I hadn’t been back there because I didn’t like seeing the place like it was now. In the years after we left it the house had still looked like the place I remembered, now I looked like the type of place you told scary stories about.
I wanted to go back there, but I couldn’t find the courage to do it.
How could I go back to a place which holds so many good memories but looks like a house of horrors?
How could my childhood home like that? How could I let that happen?
If you enjoyed this story please don’t hesitate to follow my blog for more!
Follow me on twitter! @Rtillyflash
Categories: flash fiction