By Nikita Vinay
It all started on my eleventh birthday when my grandmother gave me a wooden photo frame with a picture of my parents and me standing in front of our house. It was one of my favourite pictures and was taken on my mother's birthday last year. I kept it on my desk in the far-left corner and smiled whenever I saw it. I loved my family, but little did I know that would all change so soon.
One day while studying, I accidentally knocked over the frame, and it fell to the ground and shattered. There appeared to be another picture behind the picture I was used to seeing. I carefully opened the frame to find two more pictures. The pictures behind mine were similar, except that in the one behind mine, another boy was standing in front of my parents! And in the picture behind that, a girl was in place of him! I began to feel scared and started freaking out. I could feel my heart racing and there was a weird feeling inside my stomach. As I turned the picture around, I noticed that the second one was dated exactly eleven years before mine. The third one was dated exactly eleven years before that: same clothes, same house, same parents but a different child. After I removed both the pictures, I found a small note written in what seemed to look like red ink, “COME LOOK FOR ME IN THE BASEMENT,” the note said. But going there didn't seem like a smart idea to me.
In the following days, I could barely eat or sleep, let alone focus on anything else. Who were those kids? And why did they have pictures with my parents? I started wondering if these people were even my real parents. So, one day, when my parents went out, I gathered courage and decided to go to the basement.
I never ventured there normally, it was always dark and dusty, and I remember it having a weird dead rat stink. I went into my parent's room and started to search for a key to open the basement door. Eventually, I found an old metal key in the secret compartment of a book and guessed that it would unlock the door. I cautiously walked up to the wooden basement door on which hung a rusted lock. I unlocked the door and set foot into the basement. The smell was what I remembered it to be, it was quiet and cold, and I couldn't see a thing. Out of the blue, I heard my mother calling my name. It started to get louder and louder till suddenly the house went dead silent. In a panic, I fumbled around and found the light switch. In front of me lay two large heavy-duty luggage bags, one of which had a picture of the girl and the other of the boy. I froze, my heart stopped beating, my mouth went dry, and I could not breathe. My thoughts were filled with fear and worry, and I soon began to cry. The door behind me opened with a loud squeak and a chill ran down my spine. I slowly wiped the tears from my eyes and turned to see my mother holding a sharp long knife.
By Nikita Vinay
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