news of a seance spreads like wild fire; scorching the ground with the trampling of press and tabloids. but eventually they disappear and the evening is still young; the clock strikes. 6 O'CLOCK. stay.
wind blows through the window, a whistle coming in, the day was warm but something feels so cold. maybe it's because you’re suddenly thinking about the fact that people believe there’s ghosts here. do you? well, you wouldn’t of if it wasn’t for the whispers going around. you know that. WHERE ARE YOU GOING? upstairs.
when you reach the landing there is nobody in sight; MAYBE THAT’S FOR THE BEST. your eyes take in everything around and two rooms seem to be ajar and empty to the best of your knowledge. mom’s sitting room.
you step into the sitting room that feels so eerie,the pale floral wallpapered walls and the antique set up that seems straight out of the 80s. as if it hasn't been touched since then either. you almost start to wonder how a real life woman sat in here for hours on end staring at the walls supposedly content with their life. you look at the chair that features in so many pictures, plump pink cushions and floral patterns sewn in. SOMETHING ELSE CATCHES YOUR ATTENTION. a tear in the wallpaper behind that shows a pattern that’s completely different, that doesn’t belong to a middle aged housewife at all. tear.
you walk over to have a closer look and you don’t know what comes over you when you see what’s underneath. a small piece comes away and then a big piece until you have torn a huge portion of wallpaper away. it’s when you look at it that you stumble backwards into that plush chair – “WHAT IS THAT?” you ask yourself because nobody else is around. staring at what you have revealed confused; old blue wallpaper, pen drawn over it, stick figures and smiley faces scratched with orange and green pen onto the wallpaper. an illustration of a little boy on his bike but his face is so sad.