The Coffin in the Hills.

scary-stories:

warning: very long story.

I moved to a new house a few weeks ago. It was a simple two story house in the hills of West Virginia down a fairly residential road nestled between a cluster of looming trees. It had been on the market for a long time apparently, so I purchased it at an almost criminal price. I couldn’t figure out, why, the foundation solid and the interior in amazing condition.

It was at the end of the street, my neighboring residents scattered before me like an audience in a throne room. It was just outside of a small town, a quaint, fairly poor stretch of the state.

I was pleased with the move. I was away from the noise of DC and more importantly, away from the bad memories I left behind. A broken marriage, the loss of a beautiful apartment, and an inevitable divorce. Thanks God I didn’t have any kids.

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