Breathless
The eighth installment of my flash novella.
Breathless
A blast of cold air nearly threw Sam and Farrah back down the steps. They both threw their arms up to shield their faces, but nothing came at them. Sam slowly brought his arm down to chin level, peering into the house. There was a large stairwell almost immediately in front of him, and several doors on either side of the front hall. He heard the porch creak as Farrah moved closer, and he could feel her breath on his ear as she peered over his shoulder.
Although it was dark outside, and eerie light fell within the house allowing Sam and Farrah to navigate their way inside effortlessly. A faded red carpet ran from the front entrance and up the stairwell. It's color had been worn almost threadbare in spots. There were candelabras mounted on the walls, and though their candles had long since burned out, the light seemed to be brighter around them.
“I don't like it here,” Farrah said wearily.
“You're the one who had to tag along,” Sam attempted to spit back, but his voice broke instead.
A shadow moved at the top of the stairwell, disappearing down a hall. Sam crept, rather than ran this time, up the stairwell. He rounded a corner with his back to the wall, which opened up onto another hallway. It was long and narrow, with multiple doors and a single window at the end.
Farrah slid past Sam and pushed open the closest door. She stared intently into the room, unmoving, until she settled on something in the corner. Sam followed her through the doorway and watched as she walked to the other side of the room. It appeared to be a bedroom. There was a twin-sized bed with a large headboard at one end, while near the door was a wooden chair and a reading table. The light in the room seemed to grow brighter upon their entering it.
Farrah got on her knees and reached beneath the bed. Sam's heart skipped a beat, expecting something to appear suddenly. Instead, Farrah pulled herself, as well as an old hat box, up from beneath the bed. She moved back to the middle of the wooden floor and set the box down. She motioned for Sam to join her, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Sam sat next to her, their knees almost touching. Farrah tucked a piece of hair behind her ears and pulled the hat box into her lap. It had, at one time, a floral design printed around the outside, but years had faded it to a nearly unrecognizable state. Farrah slipped the lid off of the box and set it in front of her. Sam watched anxiously as she reached inside the box and pulled out a handful of photographs.
Farrah pushed the lid and box aside and spread the photographs out in front of them. She shuffled them around, looking at the faces in each. But something caught Sam's eye. He pushed her hand aside and took one of the pictures, wondering at the familiarity of it.
Realization gripped Sam suddenly. His eyes widened as he stared at the young face of Mrs. White. He shuffled through the photographs again. Farrah had picked up one herself and was studying it. Sam's breath caught as he pushed the faces of strangers away to reveal the warm, smiling features that belonged to his mother.
Part 7: Trust
Part 9: Score
Breathless
A blast of cold air nearly threw Sam and Farrah back down the steps. They both threw their arms up to shield their faces, but nothing came at them. Sam slowly brought his arm down to chin level, peering into the house. There was a large stairwell almost immediately in front of him, and several doors on either side of the front hall. He heard the porch creak as Farrah moved closer, and he could feel her breath on his ear as she peered over his shoulder.
Although it was dark outside, and eerie light fell within the house allowing Sam and Farrah to navigate their way inside effortlessly. A faded red carpet ran from the front entrance and up the stairwell. It's color had been worn almost threadbare in spots. There were candelabras mounted on the walls, and though their candles had long since burned out, the light seemed to be brighter around them.
“I don't like it here,” Farrah said wearily.
“You're the one who had to tag along,” Sam attempted to spit back, but his voice broke instead.
A shadow moved at the top of the stairwell, disappearing down a hall. Sam crept, rather than ran this time, up the stairwell. He rounded a corner with his back to the wall, which opened up onto another hallway. It was long and narrow, with multiple doors and a single window at the end.
Farrah slid past Sam and pushed open the closest door. She stared intently into the room, unmoving, until she settled on something in the corner. Sam followed her through the doorway and watched as she walked to the other side of the room. It appeared to be a bedroom. There was a twin-sized bed with a large headboard at one end, while near the door was a wooden chair and a reading table. The light in the room seemed to grow brighter upon their entering it.
Farrah got on her knees and reached beneath the bed. Sam's heart skipped a beat, expecting something to appear suddenly. Instead, Farrah pulled herself, as well as an old hat box, up from beneath the bed. She moved back to the middle of the wooden floor and set the box down. She motioned for Sam to join her, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Sam sat next to her, their knees almost touching. Farrah tucked a piece of hair behind her ears and pulled the hat box into her lap. It had, at one time, a floral design printed around the outside, but years had faded it to a nearly unrecognizable state. Farrah slipped the lid off of the box and set it in front of her. Sam watched anxiously as she reached inside the box and pulled out a handful of photographs.
Farrah pushed the lid and box aside and spread the photographs out in front of them. She shuffled them around, looking at the faces in each. But something caught Sam's eye. He pushed her hand aside and took one of the pictures, wondering at the familiarity of it.
Realization gripped Sam suddenly. His eyes widened as he stared at the young face of Mrs. White. He shuffled through the photographs again. Farrah had picked up one herself and was studying it. Sam's breath caught as he pushed the faces of strangers away to reveal the warm, smiling features that belonged to his mother.
Part 7: Trust
Part 9: Score