I traveled down the path,

Where they once walked before.

On a thorn covered trail with my bare feet sore.

Blood streaming from my feet,

To the roots of the flowers.

It colors the petals,

In my final hours.

Death waits for me at the end,

Crimson cloaked.

It reaches out its hand and its fingers I stroked as they once did,

Before....

The House on the edge of 13th street had plagued my mind for the last 15 years. That’s as long as I had been alive. Old oak boards blocked the mystery that layed behind the windows. How long had they been there? Who knew the answer, but they were coming down because I made it my mission to uncover the mystery. It was almost as if a force was pulling me towards the house, a nagging sensation to br...