Memories Thick As Dust
I frowned as the dilapidated shack of a house drew into view. Emilia stepped on the brakes, turned into the overgrown driveway, and the rental shuddered to a jittery halt.
“We’re here?” I asked, looking up at the rotten wood building.
“We’re here,” Emilia echoed. She took the keys out and walked up to the front porch. Taking one last breath I opened the door and followed her. The screen door shrieked as she opened it.
A dusty inside awaited us. Particles floated in the air, giving the house a haunted, dreamlike quality. Mold was evident in the air, and the musty scent of disuse hung about the place.
“Why is this place still standing?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.
“It was my mother’s. She died, and the government just didn’t do anything with it. I’ve come to…as you say, ‘mend past sins.’”
“Mhm.” I looked around at old photos lining the walls as we tramped up the creaky stairs to the second floor. “These are all your relatives, then?” I asked.
“More like ancestors. Oh, we’re here.” A bedroom.