Welcome To The House On Monterey Way
A horror story years in the making.
If walls could talk, instead of listening, perhaps ask why. I can talk, for as long as I’ve been here. Yet, nobody worries about how. Oh, the stories I could tell. This one is about the last time someone moved into the house on Monterey Way.
“If walls could talk,” said Janice. “That’s all Detective Bauer would say, and then he handed me this.” She was holding a police report, one that detailed a tragic ending to a family. She should have handed it back.
On March 13th, 2020, A man lay on the floor in front of the glass doors going out the backside of a home on Monterey Way. His sobs echoed through the house. Nobody was there, at least not anymore. He was alone and grasping that it was his fault.
“Shut up!” he screamed.
Peter was his name. Peter lay there on the ground, holding the sides of his head, begging for quiet. No matter what he did, the noise in his head wouldn’t stop. Every day, Peter could hear the chaos in his head, but only when Peter was home. Even when he went to the doctor for help, Peter couldn’t explain why the voices in his head weren’t there. It was always at home, always.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he screamed, oblivious to the knocks at the door.
