Mrs.Fergusons house
Growing up there was a quite old lady who lived down the block, everyone loved her, her name was Mrs.Ferguson. Even though we loved her, we had to admit that her house reeked. Just standing from out side her rusted gate you could smell a stench that made you sick. Recently she passed away from unknown reasons, probably old age. A new family moved in not to long ago, 2 teenage boys and their mother. You never see them come outside though, but one of the boys always stare out the window, his face seeming as if he’d been awake for weeks. Ever since they moved in the house smells even more rancid.
Tonight I unfortunately decided to check in on them. I slipped on my shoes and walked up to their porch, trying to hold my breath to prevent myself from puking. I could see the boy more clearly now, my heart nearly stopped once I focused on him more. He looked as if he hasn’t eaten in months, I could tell he was alive because it seemed as if he was mumbling something under his breath. I chose to ignore him and rang the door bell, I waited impatiently for someone to come. Around 10 minutes later I was greeted by a short, frail woman. Surprisingly once she opened the door a sickeningly sweet smell seeped from the inside. “What do you want.”, said the lady at the door in a sour tone. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure you’re family is ok; I don’t see you guys come outside and your son looks to be sick”, I said as I tensed up a bit. She smiled and let me in, I came in and was confused once I saw her sons sitting at a table looking like normal kids, unlike I’ve seen them through the window.
As for her, she looked to be a healthy woman around her late 30’s. “W-what..?”, I stammered. The woman smiled, “Mrs.Ferguson blessed us!”, she said, realizing what I was confused about. I looked at her and asked if she was related to her and she said she wasn’t, but they met once her family moved in. I informed her that Mrs.Ferguson has passed away and she looked at me with disgust. “Oh don’t say that dear..”, she said as she sat me down and say next to me. Now that I’ve gotten a good look at her, she looks nothing like the woman that moved in not to long ago. The original woman had black hair and a face full of freckles. This woman was blonde and looked like a model from the 70s.
I grew worried as the realization set in that it may not be the same person. She actually looked like a young Mrs.Ferguson. “Who are you?”, I asked as I stood from my seat. “Oh Marissa, don’t you remember me? It’s Mrs.Ferguson!”, she said wirh a bright smile. “But she’s old and dead..”, I said “No dear”, she said. “I’m not dead, my family isn’t complete yet.” That’s when I realized the picture of a family on the wall, 2 teenage boys and a little red head girl, and Mrs.Ferguson standing off to the side with a large grin. That’s all I can remember. I’m typing this with what last bit of strength I have, I’m turing into what I saw of the teenage boys. I’ve found out what the odor was as well. It was the rotting bodies of all the victims who didn’t fulfill the roll as part of the family. Unfortunately I fit the roll. Now there’s a little red head girl running around, and the longer she stays, the weaker I get.