CWWC, Short Story, Writing

CWWC 2016: Challenge #5



As I said in my last post, I am alternating two stories throughout the month of May based on the writing prompts. This challenge’s story is continuing A Day in the Life of Chelsea; if you missed parts one and two, here are the links for those.

A Day in the Life of Chelsea; #1

A Day in the Life of Chelsea; #2

(Loren I used 5 prompts in the story)

A Day in the Life of Chelsea; #3


In the silence, Chelsea buried her head. She often heard that you couldn’t hear God if you were too consumed with your own thoughts, but she was too weak to try and push them away. They were strong and pulling at her every piece of attention. So she gave up trying to hear Him.

Getting up and exiting the museum, she drug her feet back to her dwelling. She never could go back to the apartment after Jessica died, and she couldn’t afford anything else, so she lived in an abandoned little house.

It was run down and probably had been inhabited by an old miser scared to leave his house, she deducted this assumption based on the front door. On the outside it was just ugly, but it was also immovable. When Chelsea first found the house, she had climbed in through the window because even with her excellent lock-picking skills, there were so many locks on the door that she decided to take the easy route.

Curious as to how many locks where actually holding the door shut, she walked back to the front door and stopped short when she saw the hideous carving all over the once pretty wood. Dug deeply into the grains were the words, “The world’s not safe anymore”. That explained the eight locks.


After living in the house for almost a month, Chelsea became oddly fond of it. She didn’t like it per say, but she didn’t feel miserable like she had in the apartment either. The little house was a mystery. One that she found a small clue to solving every day.

One day she found a note stuck inside the toaster of all places, it said, “No one ever comes back if they stray past the border, what lies beyond is unknown.” What it meant, kept Chelsea’s imagination running wild.


Today, she found a picture of three little girls sitting on stairs, stashed inside of the roll of paper towels. Chelsea assumed that they were sisters, probably about a year apart each, and one seemed not interested in taking the picture. Smiling briefly, she took her focus off of the little girls and examined their surroundings, and instantly recognized it.

The stairs that they sat on were the same stairs in the house. Granted, the stairs were in a lot better shape in the picture than they were now, but the angle of the staircase and design on the guardrail were unmistakable.


Chelsea hadn’t been upstairs yet, partly because she was afraid that the stairs would collapse under her weight and partly because she was afraid she’d find the corpse to whoever had lived here before her.

But now that she held the picture of the three little girls in her hand, knowing that they had probably lived here, her curiosity got the best of her and she walked up the creaking steps.

At the top of the stairs, there was a short hallway that had two rooms linked to it; one to the left and one to the right. The hallway literally dead-ended into the doors of the rooms, making the “hallway” more of a cubby-hole.

Doing “eeny meeny miny moe” in her head she decided on the door to the left and carefully approached the door, envisioning the floor beneath her giving away and her falling to her death. Shaking the thought away, she reached for the handle and through the door open, peering inside.

She had chosen wisely, this was definitely the girls room. A bunkbed was pushed up against the far wall and an additional twin bed was placed adjacent to the bunk bed. There were dressers, a vanity, and some chests around the room that were all decorated in pink. Just like in some perfect picture of a vintage room, it was in perfect order, not a wrinkle on the bedspread and not one thing out of place. The only thing keeping it from being featured in a magazine was the mounds of dust covering everything.

Chelsea walked in and saw the closet hanging open, all the clothes still hanging in perfect color order. Opening the drawers to the dresser she found yet another photo, covered in dust. Blowing the dust off she tried to see what the picture was and realized it was upside down. Turning it around, she studied the picture and then gasped.

It was of Jessica! When she was lying on the ground surrounded by the busted ice bag!

Prompt 3

But that didn’t make sense! That means this picture would have had to be taken only 3 months ago, and it looked so much older than that, a few years at least. Studying the picture more closely, she couldn’t deny it, it was unmistakably Jessica.

Creeped out and even more confused, she decided to leave the room and check the other room, carrying the picture with her. Once she opened the door, she wished she hadn’t. The room was empty, completely bare, except for one box in the middle of the room. It was labeled “Bad Memories; Do Not Open”.


Shaking her head at the curiosity mounting, Chelsea backed away slowly before slamming the door shut and bolting back down the stairs. She grabbed her backpack from the floor where she had left it and then jumped out the window and began running toward the park. Why couldn’t her life be normal?


And there you have it! Thank you for reading!



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