No one ever goes near the Macklin house. Not after what happened in 1958. It all happened on Hickory Street, during a cold winter’s day in early-January; January 3rd to be exact. Since then, the neighbors have moved, leaving the neighborhood vacant, and the trees withering and dead.
December 4th, 1957 in London
The snow was five inches deep, the bitter cold hugging her legs, the frostbite nipping at her toes. White slathered the pavement, seemingly stretching across the entire world, as far as the eye could see. Sharp wind cut though the stillness with inaudible sounds, tousling the snow beneath her feet. It felt empty and lonely; just her and the white. She trudged through the snow, carrying a black knapsack filled with children’s toys that were once meant to serve a great purpose, but lacked all meaning now. She wore nothing but a black dress and black shoes, allowing the air to wrap around her arms like a cold blanket, her finger freezing in the frosty air. She reached the funeral just as the bell tower struck twelve.
Emily Macklin was infamous in the neighborhood; she was the odd girl that never stepped foot outside. Some say she stayed inside because her skin was so pale it burned scarlet in the sun, but most others just thought she was crazy, and crazy she was. Her family had died when she was sixteen, burned to ashes in a fire started by her neighbors, who had accused Emily’s parents of murdering their child, Tommy. She had been out buying a gallon of milk at the market, and by the time she got home, flames were dancing across the roof. Emily had always been that odd child that never really fit in. Being severely introverted, she never liked to play with the other children, wandering around all alone at school, and sitting in the garden for hours in solitude at home. But it was clear as day that her sole came in the most pure form. She was all the things that others aim to be- compassionate, caring, kind, gentle, and understanding. When her family died, all of that was buried under her cold, pale skin, and hidden behind her reptilian eyes.
The warm air collided with the cold as the door flew open to the church, sending shivers down Emily’s spine, and running through her dark brown hair, shorn at the nape of her neck. Her emerald eyes locked with the tiny coffin at the front of the room, a crazy panic replacing the empty glaze. The room seemed to be spinning faster and faster. It felt like the kind of rollercoaster that twists and jerks you in every direction until you throw up what had just gone down only a few minutes ago. A hot bead of sweat inched its way down her forehead as she turned and ran for the exit, dropping the bag and leaving the toys behind.
“Annie”, she breathed, holding her round stomach, now empty and barren, as though Annie were still in there.
December 11th, 1957 in London
He didn’t pay much attention to the way he looked, but a blind man could have seen the scale of his beauty. He had blond, silky hair, flaring upwards in the front. His eyes were a magnificent deep green, shining like diamonds in the sunlight, and unlike Emily’s sickly pallor, he wore beautifully tanned skin, resembling that of a god. With the magnitude of his beauty, most saw a narcissistic man who spent every waking moment staring at his reflection in a shiny mirror, or charming the women who walked by on the street. But in reality, he didn’t care about the way he looked; only about Emily. Tom and Emily had that burning passion in their hearts; a fire that burnt with the utmost intensity, lighting the way on those dark days. But you know what they say- the brighter the flame, the quicker it burns.
It had been a week after the funeral, and Emily had appeared to have gone crazy.
Tom had heard her speaking softly to someone, so he had crept into Annie’s room and flipped on the lights. Emily swayed slowly in the rocking chair, book in hand, reading to the empty space inside the crib that should have been Annie’s bed, but her new bed was that tiny coffin.
“Emily, what are you doing?” Tom had asked, horrified by what he had walked into.
“Goodnight Annie”, Emily answered, and left the room without giving Tom an answer.
December 15th, 2013 in London
The round, wooden table creaked softly as Emily set down the plates for dinner. The dark room, only slightly lit from the moonlight, was cold and depressing; no one spoke or attempted to fill the silent worry between them. Clink! Clink! Clink! Annie set down three fine china plates. Clink! Clink! Clink! She set down three glass cups.
“Annie, come down for dinner!” Emily called. Five slow minutes inched by.
“Annie, your food is going to be cold!” She said impatiently.
“She isn’t coming!” Tom felt his voice raise, his face flush, and his fists clench. His eyes narrowed as Emily began to scream an ear-piercing pitch. Tom stood with force, knocking the flimsy chair to the ground, and ran at her, shoving her against the wall.
“She’s dead! Annie’s dead! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” He screamed, this time at full volume. His hands opened, and Emily slid down the wall, tears streaming down her face.

January 3rd, 1958 in London

Clink, clink, clink! It was all he could hear. The clinks got louder every day, beating steadily like a heartbeat, sending blood to his head, so that the clinks found a new home there. Clink, clink, clink!
“Stop it, stop!” Tom screamed at his head, clenching it between his sweaty palms.
“Do it. Now.” He could hear a voice inside his head.
“NOW! End it all Tom, you know you want to.”
His eyes were bloodshot, having not slept in weeks; the constant clinks kept him awake. He looked around the room with a craze, his eyes darting from place to place, locking with the clock. Tick, tick, tick! The ticks replaced the clinks. Thump, thump, thump. His heart replaced the ticks. Clink, clink, clink! And back to the clinks. It was time.
January 5th, 2013 in London








A young couple, identified as Emily and Tom Macklin, were


found dead on December 3rd in their house on Hickory Street. Law


enforcement knows the cause of death was a fire gone out of


control, but they are still wondering what could have caused it.


questions were raised when all the neighbors fled the neighborhood


hours after the fire.