A Little Secret Door

There was a little secret door, That took me to places galore I stayed there in my room all day, I never went out to play.

My mother didn't like that, She always looked strange She never talked or spoke to me, I think she thought me deranged.

I escaped the world into another, The ones that hid in my closet, No one disturbed me there, you see, As I listened to a running faucet.

The faucet never stopped or slowed, It had been on for weeks now Surprisingly there was no water to be found, Only the red stains on the ground.

I walk through the house sometimes, And I see the door blown off, Off it's hinges clean, I marvel How strong I must be

I talk to Mother sometimes, Just a one sided talk - like art I don't think she wants to talk to me, After I tore out and ate her heart.

Like art.

I didn't mean for her to die! I DIDN'T WANT HER TO DIE! I DIDN'T MEA

I crawl through my secret door, I will forget again soon. I only wait for the sweet taste Of forgetfulness, and the moon.

---

Ms. Brown was found dead in her house on the 31st of October this year. A sweet old woman, but one that suffered from Charles Bonnet Syndrome. Very tragic, for while she was still sane of mind, she had been a very prominent, successful lawyer.

My name is Crawford. Detective Crawford, if you will. The case seems to have gons cold, it was a locked room murder. No possible way anyone could have gotten in or out, and furthermore, the neighbors saw her just minutes before the time of death. No one entered her house and no one existed, but somehow in the span of just a few minutes, she was dissected and her heart - taken.

The grisly poem above was found in the attic, scrawled into a blank canvas. Not with paint, though. It was etched in by a sharp object, tore through the canvas itself.

Even after combing through the house, no hidden room was found and there were no objects sharp enough to leave such a deep mark; it was almost as though someone had carved it in with their sharpened nails.

Ruled with schizophrenia, I would have had a great sleep if only I hadn't talked to her a week ago. If only I hadn't heard her tell me about how she heard something crawling through the walls. And... If only I didn't hear the same thing now.

Really, I just wish she had told me about the humming.

Submitted July 07, 2019 at 11:49AM by it_comes https://ift.tt/2Xy0EGG