The House on Ambrose Street

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Chapter 12- Confusion

The memory smashed into my brain like a bolt of lightning. But why? There was only a staircase in front of me now. It wasn’t like I was anywhere near a sewer or a sketchy alley like the one I had hid in that day. The stairs were carpeted in a gray fabric, not unlike the one that had attacked me. I stood slowly, my hand bracing me on the wall as I walked out of the lift. The door-like wall closed behind me silently.

I immediately felt a sense of claustrophobia creeping up around me. I hadn’t really been afraid of closed spaces as a kid, but this well-lit staircase gave me an uncomfortable feeling, probably because I had nowhere to go if something came down those stairs. I stood there for a moment, weighing my options: go back to the library and probably into the arms of whoever had been watching me, or go up the stairs and probably into the arms of the person following me.

I turned around and felt for the crease of the doors. It was gone. They had blended back into the yellow wall when it had shut. There was nowhere to go but up. I hammered on the wall with the side of my fist, but it was no good. The doors had completely disappeared. I tilted my head back in defeat. Going up usually worked for me, but in this case, up wasn’t the best option. Gritting my teeth, I began to climb the stairs.

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