Chills & Thrills Anthology

Howling autumn winds clawed at the wrought-iron gate, a fitting welcome as Georgia reached it. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on the cold metal, gazing up at the house that now felt foreign. Unfamiliar voices still echoed through her mind – doctors, nurses, police officers – all failing to provide answers. 'You've been unconscious for a week,' they'd said. 'You appear to be suffering from dissociative amnesia.'

The gate creaked open, a mournful sigh, as she pushed it aside. Aging mahogany grumbled under the weight of her laced boots as she ascended the porch steps. Wind chimes, like skeletal fingers, greeted her with a high-pitched jingle. Behind her, dark clouds surrendered to the relentless late October downpour.

As she reached for the brass doorknob, she closed her eyes, a single tear escaping before she suppressed her grief. 'Your mother's been killed.' The words reverberated in her head. Her keys landed on the little maple wooden table by the door with a dull thud. Nothing would ever be normal again.