Hollow Mansion
By Nadia Schwartz Rivero
The trees swung in the cold winter night. Fluffy soft snow fell down to the empty streets. Everything seemed to be at peace, except for empty cries from Hollow Mansion. A death had fallen upon the family that lived in Hollow Mansion. Timothy Jr. died that morning still holding his white bunny in his arms. No one was quite sure how he died, all they simply knew was that he was dead.
The mother of Timothy Jr. cried to the silent wind as dinner was being served. She cradled the bunny in her arms, hanging onto the memory of her son. Something felt a miss in the air that night. The father of Timothy Jr. was not speaking. Usually during dinner he shouts and yells about how awful work is. But today all that could be heard were the whimpers of the mother, and soup slowly being poured into the bowls. Still no one seemed to notice.
The fire crackled in the distance, illuminating the room. The blue wallpaper was peeling off the wall, and the candles hanging above the dinner table had melted away. The ruby red curtains were scratched off, and there was broken glass all over the floor. The mother slowly sipped the cold soup with one of her hands, and held the bunny tightly in the other. The father simply stared off into the distance. His cold white eyes were as empty as death.
The mother, finishing her soup, slowly walked to the fire place. Red dots were splattered all over her face and clothes. She had stopped crying, only to look at the flickering flames. The crispy yellow and red danced in her eyes. Her eyes then wandered towards the bunny in her arms, its coat was no longer silky white. Pink spots were splattered around it. The mother took her eyes off the bunny and went towards her husband.
His eyes never changed from were they looked, always staring at the door. Her cold brown eyes stared deeply into his before her red coated hand touched his pale face. Smudges of red clashed with his face, leaving fingerprints everywhere. She closed his eyes and pushed him off his chair. Glassed pierced his skin as it touched the ground. His back faced her, were a knife was lodged in it. Slowly her hand grasped the knife out of him, and she placed it on the table. Oozing blood circled around the father’s body.
The mother walked back to the fire place, and with the bunny in her hand she threw it into the bursting flames. Her shoes clinked against the carpet floor as she approached the entrance to the room. By the edge of the floor near the wooden stairs that lead to upstairs was a black crayon. The mother slowly picked it up from the floor and slowly started to scribble on the red crimson wall, “I’m not crazy” over and over again. Her lips crawled into a smile, and a cackling laugh left her mouth. Silence fell over again in Hollow Mansion, leaving it a miss from the chaotic noise from the world.
The trees swung in the cold winter night. Fluffy soft snow fell down to the empty streets. Everything seemed to be at peace, except for empty cries from Hollow Mansion. A death had fallen upon the family that lived in Hollow Mansion. Timothy Jr. died that morning still holding his white bunny in his arms. No one was quite sure how he died, all they simply knew was that he was dead.
The mother of Timothy Jr. cried to the silent wind as dinner was being served. She cradled the bunny in her arms, hanging onto the memory of her son. Something felt a miss in the air that night. The father of Timothy Jr. was not speaking. Usually during dinner he shouts and yells about how awful work is. But today all that could be heard were the whimpers of the mother, and soup slowly being poured into the bowls. Still no one seemed to notice.
The fire crackled in the distance, illuminating the room. The blue wallpaper was peeling off the wall, and the candles hanging above the dinner table had melted away. The ruby red curtains were scratched off, and there was broken glass all over the floor. The mother slowly sipped the cold soup with one of her hands, and held the bunny tightly in the other. The father simply stared off into the distance. His cold white eyes were as empty as death.
The mother, finishing her soup, slowly walked to the fire place. Red dots were splattered all over her face and clothes. She had stopped crying, only to look at the flickering flames. The crispy yellow and red danced in her eyes. Her eyes then wandered towards the bunny in her arms, its coat was no longer silky white. Pink spots were splattered around it. The mother took her eyes off the bunny and went towards her husband.
His eyes never changed from were they looked, always staring at the door. Her cold brown eyes stared deeply into his before her red coated hand touched his pale face. Smudges of red clashed with his face, leaving fingerprints everywhere. She closed his eyes and pushed him off his chair. Glassed pierced his skin as it touched the ground. His back faced her, were a knife was lodged in it. Slowly her hand grasped the knife out of him, and she placed it on the table. Oozing blood circled around the father’s body.
The mother walked back to the fire place, and with the bunny in her hand she threw it into the bursting flames. Her shoes clinked against the carpet floor as she approached the entrance to the room. By the edge of the floor near the wooden stairs that lead to upstairs was a black crayon. The mother slowly picked it up from the floor and slowly started to scribble on the red crimson wall, “I’m not crazy” over and over again. Her lips crawled into a smile, and a cackling laugh left her mouth. Silence fell over again in Hollow Mansion, leaving it a miss from the chaotic noise from the world.