I stood in front of the mottled red door of the old house, looking at the faded word "" on the lintel, and my throat became tight. This old house that held my entire childhood has been vacant for ten years after my parents passed away.
The moment the key was inserted into the keyhole, a damp, musty smell hit his face. I fumbled to turn on the switch, and the dim light illuminated the living room covered with cobwebs. The hands of the old-fashioned clock always stopped at ten-fifteen, which was the time when my parents had an accident.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
