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Memory House


A story about the memories we forget and the memories that find us.

Memory House

Written by Sofia Drummond-Moore

You can read the original story at http://fullbodychillspodcast.com/

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This is an unofficial transcript meant for reference. Accuracy is not guaranteed.
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I can assure the house that they think I won't I western walk up the stairs and trailing now I can scan of it catches but appealing soon they'll get to the attic I have already
story according to be like I'll behind us. When I was seven, I lived in a tiny apartment, the edge of civilization. Where are small, Colorado town at the foot house, my mom, my dad and I in dingy little apartment, twelve and my best friend Allie just down the hall. We became friends because I had the one thing: she didn't a window that looked out on de Yellow House bind our complex, the hills that rose into trees rose into mountains, except the hills warrant empty to me on the nearest hell at the time
was flat expanse of grass there I imagine house
free stories made of dark wood and wide windows plenty of space. For me, and sometimes her my indulgent fantasy, I think wooden front door and a porch the trails around the side, boxes of purple, flowers, hanging, heavy and pungent from the rails. Anyone else would have seen a little boy race to the top of the hill reach out a hand and turned invisible doorknob except really into space, run zigzag through the dirt million crazy with nothing. But I saw the Fourier, the dusty blue rock the living room with the wind fireplace, not one, but three couches a piano. I worked hard to make Ellie see it too. I got so angry when she got it wrong when she saw it wrong.
I can still see it all in my mind. I would run up the hill race into the foyer and down the hall to check the view from the grand kitchen. The windows looking down on the river and the train yard. I always got a prickling sensation when I got there when I pretended to lean against the black and white tile counter and stare out. I look behind me and always I was alone. That's why I went to the kitchen first to get it out of the way after the kitchen. I would run up the stairs wide and wouldn't with an intricate define card banister, I'm sure I look silly prancing with my legs high, but kids don't care about those things. I would run have two bedrooms, three of them to my favor bird and magic room around it sitting room with red velvet wallpaper it was there. I would spend my days lying in the grass. The thick red rug with my book time would pass strange again, though I never seem to notice. I would read a page noon. Look up as I finished, and it would be nice.
cramped up and starving week. One moment I remember. Strangely, with attacks, fear came to sunburnt, but cold my mom screaming in the distance I was lying on something soft, something. Besides the grass I look down, for a shaky moment thought I had bled out on the ground. My eyes got used to the dark and when Looked again, there was a rock under my feet the Red Rock from my room. I wasn't pretending see the house around me just the dark outdoor night and the blood Red Rock, I ran off then to my mother. whose angry, because she was afraid that night
I could hear things moving out there in the grass the next day. When I went to the hill the rock was gone. I never told alley this but even when we stop playing even when I was too old, I'd go sit on top of the hill and think of the house. Around me again, the summer I was sixteen is when everything fell apart alien. I toxic to close to young confused. I was angry, so I left her and my father left it forget it stands out to me from that moment. Standing my my beard, Subaru Pact. At my feet. I look
up to the top of the hill mile I wanted to see the house one time one last moment of imagination, but there was nothing the grass an imaginary house. That's all it was like any kid, imagining an adventure. A life outside of their own small lot, a memory, It wasn't real. Wasn't rail A week ago, my mother called me I was in my office, far the crowd. You have to come back. She said My father was dying Yes, I did. I drove all the way there until the roads got familiar again. I hadn't been back since I laughed I
I heard about alley when I pass my school about her. Alarm I want to say he was dressed from habit that I turn towards our old apartment. I want to say was me who moved my hands on the wheel that didn't feel a hot day, he's come over me today, no pressure like a knife in my chest that brought me over the hills. I too the corner on magnolia past the trees, the apartment to my left, my hill, to the right now house, stood nearly blocking out the site. Three stories. Tall dark would wide windows, boxes of purple flowers It was like a fever broke. on my skin. I dont remember leaving the car only the grass scrapped
At my knees, listen to me, I stood in front of the house I have made up the lane. Only in my head. I walked close passed from the sun. The shadow it made it Like I fell into freezing water. I can smell the flowers, taste them cold, sweet and clawing smile, something else too. Like went rock, I can smell it now, it's all over me. I touched the house rough old would so allied under my palm, I tasted copper. The part of me the kid part had never left was beating in my chest, screaming to climb the porch to look inside to see if there was
blue rock in the four year three couches a piano black and white tiles, a red velvet room but the person I am now ran back. My car. I've heard that the more you visit a memory, the more you. Tarnish had moved it, What do you remember is not the truth at all collective. Remembrance falls through the cracks and a generation remembers the name of their old favourite cereal as something It never was I seen in a movie that never happened, but this house this memory house, made. It up
I drove to the gas station, got a large coffee and drank it burning hot. In my car it was eighty degrees outside and I felt sick. stripping swipe. It was running down my lips, but so cold. I thought a valley. Of course I wondered if she had built the house but I haven't heard from her since I left town ten years ago even now. I I thought about her. Nearly every day I had I too find her more than once drunken nights alone with the internet, but more people than I thought shared her name. I saw my father lying in his bed, I could see was the limp shadow of ours his veined swollen hands like this. Hours in their boxes or they wilted
I couldn't remember I wanted to go back. My mother was speaking. I nodded Later somehow we were eating in the dining room, Hamon he's sandwiches and red wine, our old apartment, I said: there's a house behind it on the hill. Do you know who built She looked at me strangely and for a moment I was relieved, I'd ABBA to break. It was the stress, the house, how men there at all it was a temporary labs. I don't know I thought it was abandoned. She said the shivers were back, I stood up, my wine red spilled over the table now now, then, there was no house there before there's never been out there. I made it up. I wanted to
but I didn't she was already looking at me like. I was crazy red wine bleeding across her napkin. I used to play, on that he'll. Every day I tell and made myself say her name and I am she said she didn't, Remember this, was a blow somehow I was angry. She was kind though, despite how awful I was trying to reach out to me my father, breathing artificially in the next room I got my car again leaving her with a mass.
The house was dim, like there was a light on deep inside a light at the center keeping it awake. I watched for a long time looking for movement into my eyes heard a few times my vision, shuddered, and I thought I saw something something passing by an upstairs window. I focused waited and waited. I knew Ellie couldn't have built in the weather. Bleached would the shagging foundation to sick old windows. This house had been there for longer than either of us had been alive. Nothing changed in the house as the sky lighten to blue. I can tell if a light was still on inside. I had waited all night. The car was growing hot with a sun. Next I knew I was standing on the porch vows close around me costs for phobic. Before I was even inside, I swore that door was justice. I imagined it the door knob brassy at the edges with use, I knocked it felt like shooting a gun. The waiting was so painful. My teeth heard. I realized I was clenching my jaw and try to relax, but no one came, I put my hand on the knob and turn the door swung. I stepped into the fire
The blue rug looked electric and the sun stream, through the windows, the windows above the couches three of them. The rug. hold my steps as I walked over There was a depression in the center of the closest couch, as if someone was just sitting there Instead, the urge to feel was warm. I felt with and heard the door closed behind me softly than a claim. But there was no one there. When I looked, I didn't want to move, didn't want to make a noise. I held my breath ass, I walked toward the kitchen. A walk down life long. a flash of light from a picture frame on the wall. Caught my eye
A picture of me me I look now twenty five hair short standing in the hallway. This hallway Lee against the wall, smiling and there was someone mind me, a dark shadow, a blur. The prickly feeling was I did a full time. No one there I went to the kitchen. I placed my hands on the black and white tile and leaned. There was the river, the train tracks, something rushed against my back. I froze a floorboard in the hall creaked focused on my reflection in the window glass eye. Could she something moving behind me in the hall forced
softer? With around a blur of movement, an impression of board ground on the stairs. I write ass, the photo my own face staring back at me. At the top of the stairs. I paused I look tend to the first room, the guest bedroom I'd always thought just the bare essentials next bedroom too beds ensuring dressers to the other side. The master Curved windows or poster bad the door, is partially closed. I tapped it and it swung slowly open my feet, though, wouldn't move past. The threshold value afternoon Sun Street
through the windows, the bad glowed in it I blinked the light tube any after image of the Sun I thought I saw a body on the carpet. Natural bent up still, I scrambled back rubbing my eyes when I could see again. There was nothing about a turn away. When I thought afternoon. It had been barely sick, am when I entered the house, I stared at the sky. I I to be wrong. I was confused. I pulled back contain. you'd down the hall I realized I was heading for my favorite room the sitting room with a velvet wallpaper, by the time I reached at the sky,
outside was dark. The heavy curtains blocked out all sound, and I stood and listen to house quietly breathing in the dark, I turned toward the hallway backed opposite. I see and the dimness my back hit the curtain and I flicker of movement on my calf by muffled a scream into my hand on loss, flew past me I cite in relief, but I thought that again again and again my legs as the curtains around the room rippled with movement, the moth
work in my hair, their dusty little bodies hitting my eyelids falling down my shirt. I tried to breathe, but they were plastered against my nose. I opened my mouth and they flew inside. I ran blindly through the house moths screaming off me, choking spitting them as I ran. I have fell down the stairs and hit the front door. I try to wrench open my fingers scrambled on a smooth surface. There was no door, not they were suffocating me. My feet took me to the bathroom and I stepped into the shower felt awful. Is the moth wings dampened against me struggling until finally dead? They streamed off me? I stood dripping in my clothes and down and horror at the club
of bodies in the drain. I stepped out of the bathroom in the basement the floor was hard pact dirt on the walls concrete shot through with wood beams. they weren't any windows. I can still see that dim light coming from somewhere. Still, lighting, the around me couldn't find the stairs. The walls were smooth and thick all around me The door behind me was locked. The only place to go was into the darkness at the edge of the light shivering my what kind
I see on my skin. I walked towards the dark. I tried to believe it was my vision playing tricks. As the darkness moved but I could just make out against one wall, grey. things sticking out an opening, I ran for it. I could feel something here, something sliding along the wall. Beside me, quick keeping up with me in the dark, I didn't locked the door at the top of the stairs was closed and footsteps were going fast on the stairs behind me. The door flew open and I slammed shut behind me. I was in the master bedroom outside. It was still dark. I was trapped, I listened like before, but I wasn't so quiet
someone is here. I can feel them so and was cos. There was only one place to go if I could get there. face. I imagined last afterthought, finished an add on the attic, the dough or was it the end of the hall? Next to the velvet room I stepped out. there was some one in there in the room, the velvet curtains moving The sound of fabric on the floor like them wings against my clothes. I walked toward the door. And she stepped out from behind the curtains. It was her belly But not the same, my old friend
a longer. Fifty alley with some connives and a smart. it hard to look at her and a shuddering like her body couldn't stay still there you are, she said, and reach for me
so here I am making this voice recording for you, whoever you wait for a long time. I could hear around the house in no hurry to get. I guess she doesn't need me now she walks up the stairs like it pleases, her to be slow. I will slip out of the world now shaded. I am nothing but this
Recording are not exactly unfinished, adding my afterthought at all gaps in the board. I hope this phone travel safely to the ground at the grass cushioning than your mass by finding God I'll girlish, because soundness and your lesson there is hope, because now I'm a memory, your memory- I mean your add. Now you know the house, and maybe you will find you not all memories stay trapped in your add, not everything you imagine stays invisible. Some every
I'm you touch them grow stronger. Some are out there waiting for you, series was produced by Ashley Flowers and David flowers Episode was written by Sophia Drummond more and read by Jake, wherever this story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you could find the original info on our website full Nato's is an audio chart production. So what in chalk they are approved.
Transcript generated on 2021-10-07.