The house was too cold as Shiloh carefully walked across the worn wooden floor. She listened to the creaking sounds echoing through what she remembered as the front living room. A heaviness she hadn’t been expecting filled her chest as took everything in. Wall paper was starting to peel down the walls and the curtains were not pulled all the way across the large bay windows.
She walked across to the large fire place with the burnt reminds of papers spilled out from it. She knelt down and poked through the ashes, recalling her last night in the house when her father had been burning documents. She turned over a page that hadn’t been burnt and saw it was a newspaper dated a few weeks ago. She pushed it away and got up.
Leaving the living room, Shiloh headed up the stairs. Closed doors clustered together at the top, keeping their mysteries shut in. She went to the first door, remembering it was a bathroom and inside it still was. Dust lay over everything and the air smelt of damp. She peered into the bathtub and saw a pile of tiny bones. A mouse or a bird maybe?
She turned and went to the next room, it had been her father’s study. She walked in fully believing to see the desk and chair in the middle of the room, the bookcases lining the wall and her father stood smoking by the half opened window. Shiloh swung the door in and looked into the empty room. Nothing remained to even suggest what this space had been witness too.
A tumble of memories came back, flashing before like photos being taken. Shiloh saw her parents sitting on the desk laughing, her older sister reaching for a book, her father smoking and drinking. Voices from the past rose around her, but she had long forgotten what they had actual said. Shaking her head, she left, unable to take any more and eager to rediscover her childhood bedroom.