Author Topic: Cicada Road  (Read 2279 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Thalassa

  • Mere Mortal
  • *
  • Posts: 40
  • Reputation: 152
  • Gender: Female
Cicada Road
« on: Jan 26 2013 - 06:25AM »
I was thinking about this house today and would like to share some experiences with you.
 
The house on Cicada road (I lived there for four or five years from 9 - 13 years old) was one of the most unfriendly places I have lived. I never saw anything there but the atmosphere was horrible, hostile and unwelcoming, even my mother said "You could live there, but you never felt like it was your house."
 
When I was about 11 years old I would walk home from school myself. On Wednesdays we had a half day (yes, you read that right) so the teachers could have training and by the time I got home no-one would be home because the au-pere had already left to go and pick up my brother. Sometimes I would be too scared to go into the house and would sit outside on the wall, then I would pluck up my courage go into the house and run into the kitchen, slam the door, turn the radio on and then after I'd had something to eat I would get up my courage to run into the front room. I would never ever look at the top of the stairs as my third eye told me that there was a woman standing there. From what I remember she was elderly, tall and thin, she had white hair scraped back into a bun, wore a white blouse and a purplish long skirt. There was also something blue about her which I can't describe. There was NO WAY I was going to run to my bedroom, and to be honest I was scared of the thought of going in there.
My bedroom was a dark room which overlooked an alleyway which led to the garden from the garden doors below and it was dominated by two huge built in wardrobes. Sometimes you could be in there and the atmosphere would turn nasty, you would feel like a trespasser and like someone had come into the room and caught you going through their things. Other times you would walk in and feel like you had walked in on an argument and two people were turned against you glaring and wanting you to get out. When this happened, I would stand at the door feeling something watching me and scared to make a move. Sometimes I would run to get my mother - who oddly understood.
One time I was sitting in there when the atmosphere changed and I was pushed off my chair, as I scrambled out the room I realised that I had cut my knee.
 
One night I was lying in bed when I heard my friend Claire say "It will be all right soon", I rolled over to see Claire standing next to me and vanish. She was wearing bright fuzzy type pyjamas (that is the best way I can describe it). I told Claire about it the next day, described what she was wearing and she claimed to have heard me whispering to her.
The eyes of the dead must be closed while the eyes of the living must remain open