Through the dark, dust-filled foyer, Arthur peered into the gloom, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of whoever lived in this eerie shelter. The air smelled of damp earth and old paper, thick and suffocating against the back of his throat. He pushed the door open another inch, stepping silently onto the warped floorboards that groaned beneath his weight.
From deeper within the house, the faint, unmistakable sound of someone strumming a guitar drifted down the hallway, playing a melancholic melody he knew by heart. Arthur froze in his tracks, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as the realization washed over him with terrifying force. It was the exact tune Daniel used to practice every single evening in his bedroom before the world fell apart. 🎶
He crept forward along the peeling hallway, his fingers brushing against the cold, peeling wallpaper as he followed the haunting rhythm of the music. The corridor opened up into a dimly lit parlor where a single candle flickered on a wooden crate in the center of the room. There sat the elderly man, pouring the tea Arthur had bought him into a chipped ceramic mug for an unseen guest sitting in the shadows.
Before Arthur could step out and demand answers, a familiar voice called out from the dark corner, asking who was at the door. …. 👇
