Sarah unlocked the heavy iron door and coughed as she breathed in the dust that lingered around. She started work straight away clearing and dusting. She knew this house would be perfect, her dreams were coming true, she would soon have her luxury retreat hotel, it wasn't far away. The structure was sturdy, the decor, late 19th century? Art nuvo maybe? She tried to figure it out, she wanted to keep the character of the house, the furniture was intact, just like brand new, she didn't understand why someone would give up a house like this. There must of been a reason, is there? She worked through the night until her eyes were slowly closing, she knew it was time for bed.
The water felt icy and sharp as she splashed it on her face, just the wake up she needed. Looking back into the mirror she saw a face staring back at her, dead, cold, lifeless but her. She knew then she needed some sleep. Days passed and things changed. The house wasn't silent anymore, consent whispers started to echo through the walls. The piano played accompanied by the voices of the deceased. The garden full go life yet the plants were still dead. The house was suddenly full of life life yet sarah was the only one still there. Sarah tries to find answers to what is happening in the house, she finds no police records or council records that the house even excited. The church deems her insane. Maybe she was, she would of believed it herself if it wasn't for the noises. These noises weren't like the rest, she couldn't describe them, but she knew they came from above; but how? There was no evidence of there ever being an attic, well that was until she took an axe to the ceiling. Then she found it the seeled opening to an attic.
It was dark, gloomy and damp. It felt different to the rest of the house, it felt... dead. The noise was louder she knew it had to come from here. She turned on the light which shone a small flickering circle of light around her. Then she saw it, a small chest, it looked like it once belonged to a child. She dusted the top of the chest and underneath engraved into the lid was a name, Edward. Opening the chest she saw toys and letters all shoved inside like a child had just been playing with them. She pulled them all out; soldiers, cards, letters, newspaper clippings and a set of matches. What would a child want with that? The light then flickered on and off, on and off until suddenly nothing, blackness. She lit one of the matches and saw a women standing in front of her, cold and lifeless in a victorian drew. She disappeared when the light returned.
She took the letters, photographs, newspaper articles and ran, she didn't stop, she ran straight out of the house, straight though the town and too the library. There she spread out what she found on one of the mahogany desks at the back. There she found her answer, she found out who the children were, who the woman was, she found out everything. Inctorum was a catholic orphanage. In 1837 the priest who owned the orphanage died leaving the house to no one. Many of the workers left, all apart from one, Mary Kane, she stayed to look after the eight children and treated them as her own. But it wasn't long until one women adopted the children herself, leaving Mary with nothing. She went mad, destroyed the house and the grounds. Then when she saw the children left alone in their new home with only the nanny in, she took them. She kept them locked in the house for three months; but when the police came for them it was to late. They found Mary hanging in the children's room; and the children floating in the river behind the house, all drowned. They could then never be taken away from her. She knew this had to stop. She couldn't take it anymore. She took an axe to the wood and placed them in a pile with the paper she found. She lit the matches she found and dropped them one by one.
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