Writing Prompt #48 — From One Game to the Next

Prompt: Even after fixing it up, it’s very complicated living in a house that was the site of a survival horror game. 

“Get off my damn lawn!” Tom shouted at the dozen or so people standing outside in the freshly cut yard. “It’s six in the morning! Don’t you people sleep?” They ignored his shouts as they took pictures with their phones, some with DSLRs, laughing and conversing about the site before them.

He slammed the door, and stomped into the kitchen.

“Out there again?” Sam, his wife, said.

He groaned, sitting down to his breakfast.

“I’m sorry dear, but what did you expect?”

He stopped chewing his eggs, looked up. “I don’t know Sammy, maybe some damn decency. The house doesn’t even look like it did before: we replaced the walls, the paint, even the polish on the floors. The yard is cut, the roof has new shingles, we put in new sidings with a new color, everything!” He slammed his fist on the table, rattling the coffee cups and plates. “But these damn people and their morbid curiosity about a fucking game.”

She shrugged, took a sip from her split coffee, and bite into a slice of toast. “What can do you about it, honey? We don’t have money left to move, and with October next month, I’d guess we’ll have even more people outside. I think you might just have to deal with it for the next couple of years until we can afford a new home.”

Tom looked over his shoulder at the basement door. Beyond the door and down the stairs were his woodworking tools, some professional: surface planter, band saw, drill press, others his own, though more crude, like his razor saw and fire ax. He smiled, turning back to his wife.

“I think this October, we will start our own game.”

Read my previous prompt, “The Family and the Disease.”

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