I was on my way to a beach. Yeah I know right? A beach. A half an گھنٹہ from anywhere. There was a house there that my dad کہا we had to live in now. Before this 5 دن drive, his buisness of a camping system burned down. We could not afford the house, so we had to move.

We arrived. It looked like an ok house. One story. Not bad. We got out of the car. And once we got inside, the furniture was here already. There was a fridge go I had to take a peep. I opened the door, and fresh food was in it. How strange. The walls looked like they needed a new paint job. There was splats on the wall. Red splats. It looked like paint. It was on the walls and on the floor. I had no idea who would leave that there. Anyway. Once we got all set up in this shit hole, we sat down and کہا nothing. I couldn't get my eye off of the splats. I stood up, and walked over to the splats. I smelled them. This wasn't paint. This was blood.

To be continued... (sorry its so short)