Member-only story
FLASH FICTION
The New House
A short story
The grey clouds looked heavy, as if the sky itself had secrets too heavy to bear. I was seven, and my brother was five. The wet trees preferred silence, their leaves dripping, their trunks dark with rain, as if they didn’t wish to be part of what was unfolding. Lightning flashed away, stitching bright cracks into the darkening afternoon, while the sounds of rain filled the air, steady and growing. The walls of our new house waited, listening, perhaps wondering about the family they now sheltered. The windows witnessed the storm’s charm, each drop a tiny story sliding down the glass.
My brother and I sipped our tea, the warm cups grounding us, though our hearts beat with curiosity. We have been told to stay indoors. Dad warned us of reptiles in that area, as the house was very close to a lake.
But we longed to explore the garden, to see what secrets our new home’s wild edges might hold. After they left, we stole through the back door, stepping into the wind and rain, which seemed to join our team, wrapping us in their wild embrace. We reached the work shed. I heard a cry from inside. Someone sobbing. Bitterly.
Can you hear Vihant?, I asked in a shivering voice,
“Let us go back, Shasi”.
“We will just look inside”, I insisted.
Slowly, we opened the steel door and peeped in. The roof leaked steadily, and water pooled around…
