Visiting Ghosts October 2007

IC Time: After midnight, October 2007.
Location: The home formerly belonging to the Stark family: Forks, Washington.


The house is still vacant. There is a “For Sale” sign in the yard, but nobody has made an offer yet. It’s a nice single-family dwelling in a picturesque neighborhood. Mature trees, good school system, white picket fence. But it is still vacant.

Humans are reluctant to buy a home that was the sight of a homicide.

It’s been some months since that time. There is no scent of blood anywhere, no physical sign that anything untoward had ever happened. But this was where the last of my line met their end. The children and grandchildren of my identical twin sister, who survived Auschwitz when I did not, lived here.

Well, I survived Auschwitz. I just didn’t live through it.

I’d read the police reports and committed them to memory. I’d read the other reports as well. Our investigation into this. I marked the picture window in the living room, believed to be the point of entry. Now, of course, it has been replaced. I follow the presumed course of the killers through the house, into each of the rooms where the murders had taken place. The den, where the adults had been found and the bedrooms where the children were killed.

Wild dogs, rabid animals, the police report had said. Of course, no natural creature does this sort of thing. I would know. Our investigation said that wolves had done this. The wolves had done what the Nazis did not, wipe us from the earth. I was not part of the investigation. It was too close to me and I was too upset about it. My coven was concerned that I would not be able to control myself. They might have been right.

I had said that I was not going to come here, when I returned to Washington. But being this close, I found I couldn’t stay away. I had to see it, for myself. Had to see where they were killed. Had to see where my line met its end. I have the newspaper clipping: Family of 6 Murdered in Forks! Rabid Animals Suspected! I keep it in my journal, near to my other important mementos.

The grief and anger is still there, picking at the back of my mind like a tenacious oxpecker bird. But I can control it. I am strong and I have endured much. This weight can be endured as well. But I do not forgive and I do not forget. Someday, perhaps soon, I will find this answer and exact my own revenge.


Stasia

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