Day 287

The house was desolate and the young boy was almost alone.
He was trying to avoid the only other living person there.
This being was definitely alive, he muttered actual words.

Dead people don't say words they say... memories.
It's hard to explain but where speech would be there are instead images in your mind.
The young boy was scared of them, they never said nice things to him.

Now the living one, the one who walked slowly from room to room humming softly.
The boy had never seen this man, only heard him.
His loneliness had grown to the point where he would follow the living man's every step.

He had tried many times leaving notes to communicate with this live one.
It never worked, the dead kept moving the notes and tearing them up or bleeding all over them.
Even as he carried notes to their places red drops would coat them, following was the only solution.

Today's wandering had lead him to a new part of the house.
The floor rustled as he kicked up the music sheets coating the floor beneath him.
They'd all been violently torn from their books, the covers nailed to the walls in rows.

The living man was nearby, he'd recognise those slow thudding steps anywhere.
Pressing his ear to the nearest wall he heard the soft sound of humming coming through.
The living man must be on the other side, now was his chance to finally make contact.

He tiptoed to the door as quietly as he possibly could (considering the floor was covered in paper).
Peering round he got his first glimpse of the living man who went silent the moment he was spotted.
He wore a dark grey suit and had a bowed head, shuffling his feet slightly as he stood facing a corner.

The young boy crept up behind him and stood, waiting for him to turn around.
All that could be heard from the room was the man's slowly moving feet and the boy's quiet breaths.
His feet were moving strangely, almost like he was writing as he leisurely scuffed the floor.

Suddenly as if struck by lightening the living man's body went rigid and he swiftly marched out.
The young boy made a move to follow him but stopped as the man stepped through the opposite wall.
Seems he was dead, but not dead like the others... maybe somewhere in between.

Deciding to not follow for the time being (just in case) the young boy crouched to look at the floor.
Where the (possibly not) living man had been standing words were now scratched into the wood.
Only a few words and the young boy began to understand his predicament and his home.

No life left.