4 December 2012
Part 2 of an unnamed miniseries with incredibly short segments.
As he fumbled with the key and clumsily turned it in the lock, he reviewed the events of the night. Am I insane? he thought. No. I am Henry O'Banion of 44 years of age, married twenty years, and father to two innocent children. That's a normal life, no signs of insanity. So what happened? he questioned himself as he nearly fell through the entryway. I'm drunk is all, he reasoned, I'm intoxicated and hallucinating. And though it was true that he had had a bit too much to drink, he had the wounds on his arm and rips in his jacket sleeves to prove that events of that night were, indeed, real. He knew this, but he was scared of the truth. Of that... animal... that had attacked, killed. And as he stumbled up the stairs to the second story of his home, something struck him. The house was eerily quiet for 8 PM and there was a slight draft, a chill in the air. Feeling uneasy, he ran up the stairs, checked every room, and screamed the names of his wife and children. But other than him, there were no signs of life in the house, and the back door was swinging in the wind, left ajar in the moonlight.
The Arrival Home • Opuss № I