Next to the living room was a sitting room that looked right out of the Lizzy Borden era. There wasn't anything in the house that seemed to belong to my brother or the family. No family portraits no pictures of the three small boys nothing. They suddenly seemed to be strangers living in a stranger's house. A house that wasn't even in our time zone a house where time had stopped years before.
After a brief glance at the downstairs that afternoon I became bored - as only a young teenager can soon become with such events - and I left to meet a friend. I didn’t go back until late October and when I did I had an encounter that I haven't been able to explain to this day.
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