deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Dangerous Obsession
I memorise the address and shut the computer down, hurrying out of the office to my car.
Outside, dusk is settling over the area with a hint of damp and mugginess in the air. I drive quickly, nearly going through a red at a set of traffic lights. I continue on along the coastal road, tight chested.
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I looked for her name, but I wish I hadn’t. The different surname indicates she has married since we last saw each other.
That shouldn’t bother me. But it does.
Leave it alone, I tell myself as I approach the roundabout near the foot of the cliffs. Or you’ll lose everything.
I look at the boat huts near the water and shudder.
The sky is thick with an oppressive heaviness and the sea has a strident tone to the water. I take the lane that weaves its way in a steep climb to the lane of cottages.
About a third of the way up, lightning streaks across the sky, followed by downpour. I drive on, my head full of fractured memories; incomplete flashes of violent outbursts in the House, matching the lightning and the bursts of thunder over the bay. I hear the sound of smashing china and broken glass and I see myself shaking him by the bags of cement near the Private Lounge. Shaking him and not stopping, my temper out of control as I, too, slipped into the madness of the House.
Inspired by The House On The Hill
The old house stands at the top of a hill
Alone and abandoned
Surrounded by grass and earth
Weeds sprout across an uneven path
The faded curtains and peeling paint hint of secrets
An unproven rumour from the past
Silent weeping
The house has remained empty for years
People don’t want to come here
Apart from drunken kids for weekend dares
Or the morbid drawn to tragedy
© Lawrence Estrey 2019
Outside, dusk is settling over the area with a hint of damp and mugginess in the air. I drive quickly, nearly going through a red at a set of traffic lights. I continue on along the coastal road, tight chested.
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I looked for her name, but I wish I hadn’t. The different surname indicates she has married since we last saw each other.
That shouldn’t bother me. But it does.
Leave it alone, I tell myself as I approach the roundabout near the foot of the cliffs. Or you’ll lose everything.
I look at the boat huts near the water and shudder.
The sky is thick with an oppressive heaviness and the sea has a strident tone to the water. I take the lane that weaves its way in a steep climb to the lane of cottages.
About a third of the way up, lightning streaks across the sky, followed by downpour. I drive on, my head full of fractured memories; incomplete flashes of violent outbursts in the House, matching the lightning and the bursts of thunder over the bay. I hear the sound of smashing china and broken glass and I see myself shaking him by the bags of cement near the Private Lounge. Shaking him and not stopping, my temper out of control as I, too, slipped into the madness of the House.
Inspired by The House On The Hill
The old house stands at the top of a hill
Alone and abandoned
Surrounded by grass and earth
Weeds sprout across an uneven path
The faded curtains and peeling paint hint of secrets
An unproven rumour from the past
Silent weeping
The house has remained empty for years
People don’t want to come here
Apart from drunken kids for weekend dares
Or the morbid drawn to tragedy
© Lawrence Estrey 2019
Published 30th Jan 2020
Author's Note
Based on a previous novel attempt, Silent Friends. Genre: psychological thriller.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Fantastic suspense, Lozzamus. Clarity combined with just the right amount of ambiguity and open ending that leaves the reader wanting to know more.
31st Jan 2020 4:53pm
Very kind feedback, Ahavati. Am eager to try to write more fiction soon. A novella perhaps. Clearly scary stuff.
