I breathed in the “apartment smell” of the building, dropping my bag, I walked through the apartment I’d be staying at for college.

Nothing noteworthy except a note on the fridge, I take it off the magnets it’s hanging from and read it.

The children tend to get crazy at night. I read in meticulous but big handwriting.

I sigh, walking away and getting my bag, going to the one bedroom.

I get ready and

(TBC)

The room was lit up by one candle light, she looked at the man across from her.

“How will I die,” He asks in a jagged voice.

It’s a question everyone asks as a joke, but as they get told, they don’t believe it, trying to shake it off. This man looked at her with bitter grey eyes, he’s made peace, ready to accept anything.

“In a place known fondly to you, it will be covered with needles, everything will be damp, and enough electricity to electrocute a bug.”

His jagged eyes grow somber as she looked at him, seeing the disbelief.

He stands up, coughs, and walks away.

He starts trying to make a picture of a fond place, all he can imagine is the sweet, smoky pipe, the ruffling of newspaper, his mother slowly knitting, wondering when she’d become an Angel.

His home? His home would be dangerous, he’d need to stay calm and away from it.

He walked to the nearby park, children running and laughing.

He sits down on the bench, when he sees his wife.

A little girl ran up to his wife, her little brown pigtails bouncing in the wind.

Her eyes look like stars, her dress looks like a flag swaying in the wind, she talks to his wife.

He stood up, walking to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed a little.

“It was a beautiful rock! I skipped it across the pond! You said that’s good luck, right daddy?”

“Yes,” He lied, he couldn’t stop thinking about that thought.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” She exclaimed.

For the rest of the night, he was restless.

The week went on as normal, he and his wife made a promise to go to his childhood home every month.

“Why don’t you want to go,” She asked, the sizzling of bacon on the stove was soft.

“…” He couldn’t say it. It’d ruin the rest of that Sunday.

Even still, Caroline and his wife pushed him into going to his childhood house. For their sake, he’d take the death.

He opened the door.

“Stay back, at the car,” He had said before getting out.

Just as she said, the floor was covered in needles, it was damp, and there were an abundance of low hanging electrical parts.

He took off his shoes, and stepped on the needles, screaming.

He slipped, touching one of the electrical parts, falling down, shaking.

The last thing he saw was the roof of the kitchen.