Murder By Razor
It was time to move on. I needed to be able to stretch my legs. A two bedroom flat was simply just not enough. A family of four and another child on the way, we needed the escape. No -where on Earth could we fit another bed under this roof, let alone another vehicle in the driveway. Where were the children going to play? How are they meant to play with the dog in the backyard? Many questions asked and only one answer, one action. Something needs to be done. That night, my husband and I sat up looking through the local papers. After several hours of searching; either the houses were small, unaffordable, or not within our distance. Just as it seemed that I was going to give up, luck turned my way. It was everything I wanted. Many bedrooms, a large dining area, spacious backyard, but there was no picture and a contact number was left on the advertisement. A little odd you may think but I was desperate. My husband managed to reach the real estate agent to exchange details and with that we were set off on a family road trip in our dirty rodeo to what I was hoping would be our new house. From an even paved highway, to the unsteadiness of gravel, the children swayed to and fro to sleep in the back seat of the car.
This must be the one. The house I’ve always dreamed about or in fact just dreamed about. Far above the ground, on top of a hill a house of two stories stood there motionless. The steel black double gates with haunting arrows screeched open, automatically welcoming us. We drove at a snail’s pace down the long narrow driveway, passing many neat and orderly fashioned garden beds, which lead us to the front door. My body turned cold. This didn’t seem to be a home sweet home after all but something was telling me, “This is your home.”
I held the childrens’ hands as we were about to enter vast double wooden doors which were looking slightly gothic. As I was about to use the brass knocker, the door opened and I set foot on the dark polished...