The mystery of the ruined mansion

The mystery of the ruined mansion(Nicole) Looking for a house was meant to be a fun and exciting process; unfortunately for me none of the ones we viewed seemed to match my wife’s specific and detailed qualities she insisted our new home must have. they were all either too small too big too close to the neighbors and every excuse in-between. After two years of continuous searching I had given up on the never ending search and let my wife carry on and only add me in on the final decision.

On the 6th of October 2010 I got a call during work from my wife about a perfect house that had just come on the market. At 4 o'clock we went to view it.

When we arrived I was met with a house all too familiar to me. As I stood gazing at the dilapidated house I shivered as horrific memories I spent years forgetting about rushed back and surrounded me and cold air leaked around my entire body. the never ending walkway to the house was cracked and had weeds and dandelions poking their heads through them, flowers had grown wildly in thick groups by the red arched door, vines criss crossed and twisted into a maze covering nearly the entire house front, the small amount that had escaped from the vines was black with neglect with freckles of the houses original creamy white paint.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by my wife saying "I know it has some work to be done but nothing we can’t handle." I quickly pointed out to her my brothers previously treasured swing set he had gotten for his 6th birthday which was now nothing but 4 copper sticks barely able to support themselves.....

....In the early 60's my parents bought an old farm house in a small town outside Missouri, only a few weeks after my brother Oscars 6th birthday. I remember vividly the first time I saw the house I was amazed by the long welcoming walkway and the big red door. it used to seem like a mansion to me.....

Only a short while after moving in Oscar had already become best friends with one of the neighbors kids, jack. jack was barely 4 foot tall. he had jet black hair that draped over his forehead, he had emerald green eyes that stood out against his pasty white skin. I had never heard him speak, or knew life in Missouri was going well until the morning of the 6th of October 1962. I remember being devastated to see the bright red and orange leaves being snatched from the trees grip and being violently dragged and thrown around by the sharp crisp winter air and Oscar was busy showing jack his swing set so I returned inside....

....my mother and father searched franticly, he was nowhere to be found. it was late and our torches were on full beam blinding everything in their path, the sounds of the trees rustling in the howling winds were drowned out by my parents angry tearful cries. our throats were raw from screaming his name in our effort to find him.

At 12 o clock the police man reassured us “a child goes missing every 40 seconds in the USA. that’s more than 2000 children each day. a significant amount of those children are found within a 24 hour period."

But as days turned to weeks and weeks into years we couldn’t help but blame each other.

As those years passed my father continuously drowned his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle, he blamed himself the most, the guilt was too much to bare, his body began to suffer from the alcohol, he was but a shadow of his former self, gradually wasting away.

My mother made sure the house stayed the same as the day Oscar left. she spent all her time cleaning and preparing for the day he would return home. she could never find the strength to touch his toys, they were kept scattered around the house gathering dust in the hope he would one day return home and life would continue like he had never been away.