That quiet April afternoon in 1994 would haunt the small town of Wellswood forever. It would cause the calm of the small town to fade and an uneasy suspicion was set over everyone. Children play around the house where it happened but they don’t dare to go on the lawn, for the stories have scared them so badly. It’s a thing when they do get a new town member and they go on the sidewalk near the lawn and wait until the time is right to tell them, young and old the incident of the house. Some are aghast and decide to move away immediately from town to the neighbouring city of Ingra which has a nicer and less tense atmosphere. Some of the people scoff and don’t believe in the stories but stay suspicious. Some stay in the middle and those are the more dangerous one’s, the people that are naturally curious. Every time they tell the story it gets changed, but I know what happened. I was there. It was my blood that was found spilled and I know what happened because even in my afterlife it haunts me.

I was coming home from work that evening and was hungrily awaiting my wife’s meal that I had grown to expect. As I drive I looked and waved some at the people out and having a grand time in the sun. As I pulled into my driveway I looked around to see not a living soul out and playing on the street or on the sidewalks. Then I felt a chill and hesitated for a moment before getting out of the car. There was a sense like I shouldn’t go inside, like I should turn around and pull out of the driveway and drive off. I shook my head and called myself slightly paranoid for thinking of doing something like that.

Later on I realized it was another victim that sent the chill down my spine. He had in his way tried to save my life.

Walking in my front door nothing seemed much different but I didn’t expect much to be different. I took off my business coat and started to walk into the living room and there was when I knew something was wrong. The couch had long and deep carved scars in it and it’s plush insides were ripped out and strewn around on the floor. In my shock I picked some up and just stared at it for a minute before letting it fall from my hand back onto the floor. I stood shocked for a moment before walking and leaning on the wall. I felt a sharp jab on my palm as I quickly pulled away to see our wedding photo smashed and large shards of glass jutting out, almost ready to fall out. I looked at the growing color of crimson on my hand before feeling a deep sense of worry. My wife must have been here and she might still be here!

I started after that to blindly call her name like a madman and cried some of how I couldn’t find her until I heard a door slowly creak open. I turned slowly to see our bedroom door standing open and I felt another chill on my spine but pressed forward nonetheless.

“Francine? P-Please say something.”

I walked into the room holding my bleeding hand and stood in the middle of the room. The door slammed shut but my gut feeling told me to not turn around. I felt a presence behind me as I very tightly closed my eyes and bit my lip to stifle myself from crying. I felt the cool metal of a blade pressed against the back of my neck before another arm wrapped around my shoulders. I shakily opened up my eyes to only focus on the charm bracelet my wife wears and feel my heart shatter as I let tears slip down my cheeks. I could feel her breath on my ear as she whispered softly almost like she didn’t want to be heard.

“Welcome Home.”