The House on the Hill Short Story Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe
The House on the Hill Short Story Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe
I jolt awake and realize my sheets are damp from sweat . Mumbling to myself , “ the house on the hill ,” every waking minute , I rub the bottom of my foot , attempting to ease the recurring pain that has seared the arch since that fateful evening . White walls , white bedding , and white curtains surround me . I never leave the room , always on the bed , mumbling to myself . The fluorescent lights in the hallway seep through the small window on the door twenty-four hours a day . The slight hum from the lights assuages my racing pulse .
I eagerly await the uniformed doctors and nurses who enter my room three times a day , morning , afternoon , and evening . Though I yearn to speak to these attendants in blue , my incoherent mind prevents me from saying anything but “ the house on the hill , the house on the hill .” My soul is now paralyzed , lonely , and broken . This tight room is the most space I can handle . I have not lived in a house since fleeing from the one on the hill .
I remember the day I first saw the house on the hill . I could feel my anxiety taking over as I pulled up the driveway , the wheels of my 2011 Volkswagen Beetle halting slowly on the gravel . I bought this isolated lodge in the countryside for a bargain . The rustic wood exterior with rotting logs made me think about my grandfather ’ s cabin out in the forest . I had never moved before . As I entered the house , a chill raced down my spine even as the radiant sun pounded the pavement outside . I immediately noticed the musty stench that could linger in the air from miles away . Still , I could not resist the bargain price of the house . The old house was in disrepair , but it was
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