This story is the sequel to my tale 'The 1428 Diaries'. Reading that first would be useful, but not absolutely necessary.


The house on Elm Street, with it's sprawling porch and lovely bright blue door stood desolate and alone.

Where those homes that surrounded it had lush beautiful lawns and sang with the laughter of children, the melodious sounds of yappy little dogs and the noises of teenagers arguing heatedly with their parents, 1428 Elm stayed silent and clouded with an aura that no one could quite put their finger on if asked to identify it.

It stood as a mute witness to the lives that happened around it; the making and breaking of families, the births of babies and the sending of young men and women to college--it remained ever the same as the world around it changed.

It might have fallen into disrepair, so neglected it was, if not for the efforts of one very stubborn real estate agent who refused to accept the fact the place wasn't sellable. The one real estate agent who now stood on the front steps, hair perfect and clothes pristine as she awaited the arrival of the young woman who had wanted to see the place. Angela Smith, the realtor in question, had a good feeling about this.

Today, she was sure, she would sell the Elm street house.

The call had come in that very morning: a high school English teacher, married to a United States Air Force Major currently stationed overseas, who wanted to relocate to a more suburban area after three years of living on a military base.

As if that weren't enough to make Angela glow with confidence that she would make this sale today, the young woman mentioned she was pregnant and refused to raise a child on an air force base…so a house in the 'burbs was desired as soon as humanly possible.

Angela made the pitch for the Elm Street house immediately, and the prospective client had sounded so excited about the place there was no doubt in the realtor's mind that today would be the day she sold 1428 Elm after close to twelve years of trying to get rid of the place.

Not that she really needed to worry about that…the woman who was coming to look at 1428 had no intention of leaving without the deed to the house.

After all...she was returning here to collect something that rightfully belonged to her...

Something she'd left hidden in a musty shoebox under a loose floorboard in the attic twelve years prior.

If she just happened to buy the old place to get the aforementioned item before setting the house alight and watching it burn to ashes...well, that was no one's business but her own, now was it?

Was it?