Description
Sample…
He walked beneath the musty boughs kicking aside the leaves to locate the terracotta path. The cottage appeared from the deep shade, its roof covered in mildew, creepers embracing it, dragging it into the earth. The windows and position of the front door colluded to affect a demeaning sneer. The air was heavy with resentment, unwelcoming and dreary, irritated by his return after all those years.
He opened the door. He was ready to spring at the silence, but there was only the chill and the smell. His mother and father and sister had died here: murdered.
A cursory inspection of the now gutted kitchen showed no signs of the violence, of their neatly arranged anaemic bodies side by side in stark contrast to the blood that was up the walls, flashed across the ceiling, over the appliances and matted in their clothes and hair. He turned his back on the chill and ventured upstairs.
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