He would spend days upon days locked up in his room, mixing, studying, learning.
It was only when the other neigh
bors started hearing screaming from inside the old house did the police get involved.
When they went inside the house, it looked normal, just like all of the others on the inside.
Perhaps a little outdated for the 50's, but still, all of the furniture was in good shape.
It was when they got to the basement is when things started changing.
As they made their way past the well kept house, they noticed something.
There were blood trails everywhere, all starting from the basement door.
Little Timothy heard no sound go to the front door. He looked around one last time, took a deep breath, and dove right in.
He had to hold his breath. It smelt like old man in the house big time.
It was painfully dark in the house, which strangely had no windows to let light in.
Little Timothy came prepared however, and brought out a flashlight, turning it on.
He had taken it from his mother, always too busy to keep up with poor little Timothy.
He turned the light on, which casted a pale yellow glow into the abyss.
He looked at all of the old furniture, dusty and yellow. He walked across the dirty wooden floor, walking around. What scared him most was probably the blood.
There wasn't much, just a couple of specks here and there on the floor, almost like someone just had a nose bleed long ago, but it was enough to scare Timothy sensless.
He carefully walked all over the house until he finally got to where all of the neighborhood had talked about.
He jiggled the doorknob, finding it to be open. Little Timothy then took another deep breath, and started down the stairs.