The Secret Manuscript by Edward Mullen

for two vehicles. Old-growth trees
sheltered the neighbourhood from the sun with their long, flowing
branches.
    After walking
several blocks from the bus stop, Ben and Kyle approached the
house.
    “It should be
this one on the left,” Kyle said.
    They set their
bags down and observed their new residence for the first time. The
house was a little more rundown than they were expecting, but it
would have to do. It was a small two-level dwelling with a rickety
porch and peeling paint. By Ben’s estimation, he figured it was at
least fifty years old. The landscaping looked like it had not been
done in years. Tall grass and weeds took over what was probably a
nice lawn at one point. It was the only house on the block that
looked like that.
    “Welcome to
your new home,” Ben said.
    “Likewise.”
    Although it
lacked curb appeal, there was no telling what the interior looked
like, and there was only one way to find out. They picked up their
suitcases and lugged them to the house. Once up the front steps,
they saw the porch littered with soggy newspapers and a worn out
welcome mat.
    “Whoever left
you this house sure wasn’t worried about what the neighbours
thought of him,” Kyle said.
    “Based on what
I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if we find Mr. Gringer’s
skeleton still sitting in his favourite arm chair.”
    “Do you think
we’re going to find a dead body in there?” Kyle asked.
    “Let’s hope
not.”
    Ben opened the
screen door and inserted the key into the lock. He pushed his way
into the house and a strong odour pushed back.
    “Dang, it sure
smells like someone died in there,” Kyle remarked.
    “It’ll be
fine. We just need to open some windows and air the place out.”
    The curtains
were drawn, preventing light from penetrating. Ben tried flipping
on the light switch, but nothing happened. He had not expected the
electricity to still be running, but it had been worth a shot. When
Ben’s eyes adjusted to the light, he concluded the interior of the
house more or less matched the exterior. Cobwebs hung from the
ceiling, the décor was dated, and it had thick, orange shag carpet
throughout. There were stacks of junk lying about — newspapers,
mail, books, and dirty dishes were scattered over the entire
floor.
    As Kyle
followed Ben inside, the pair felt like a couple of tomb raiders.
It was not clear when anyone had been in the house last, but from
the stench and the thick layer of dust on everything, it must have
been a while.
    “So, what do
you think? A little paint should do this place wonders, right?” Ben
said, taking pride in his new house.
    “Do you have
money for paint?” Kyle asked.
    “Not yet, but
once we get jobs, we can fix this place up, good as new.”
    “Shall we take
a tour?” Kyle asked.
    They set their
bags down at the front door and proceeded to go further into the
house. With every room they entered, Ben drew the curtains back and
opened the windows. It did not take long to cover the first floor.
Unfortunately for Ben, there did not appear to be any hidden relics
worth any money. The first floor did not offer much, just an
expired kitchen, living room, dining room, and a grimy bathroom.
They walked in and out of each room on the first floor, taking
notice of anything that might provide them clues to who the
previous owner was. Remarkably, there were no photographs framed on
the walls and no photo albums lying around.
    Without saying
a word, Ben led the way upstairs to where there were a set of
bedrooms. The master bedroom had the typical stuff one would expect
to find in a master bedroom — a four-poster bed, a night stand with
a lamp, and a dresser.
    After a brief
look upstairs, they went back downstairs and walked around idly.
“So there it is,” Ben said. “It’s not so bad.”
    “What’s this
door for?” Kyle asked, pointing out a door they had previously
overlooked. The entranceway was covered with debris so he used his
foot to push it away.
    Ben