On Sunday, I learned a secret about my family. I always thought we were pretty normal, aside from the fact that my parents would go out some nights and not come home. We lived on the edge of Glassford, a reasonably small town of just over ten thousand souls. Our family had a large home on a well-wooded plot of land, with a long drive--which made walking to the bus stop a real pain in the ass, especially during the winter and summer months. My sister was a few years older than me, so I always assumed my parents were just going out drinking and leaving her to watch me. Except this night in particular, my sister was gone too.

My curiosity got the better of me so I went snooping around Dad's office. In his desk, I found a tattered old notebook. Inside it, there was a map of an island not too far from our house. I knew where it was from my adventures in the back yard. There was a decent sized lake a few acres away and a dock with a couple little wooden boats moored to it. I never really thought to explore the island though. It just… It felt off limits. Finding that map though? It was like something rebelled inside me. There was a need I couldn't quiet to get out of the house and find out what was on that island.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't uneasy, sneaking out that night. The last thing I wanted was to get caught, just like any other twelve year old. I toyed with the bracelet around my wrist and shivered, even though I had a jacket on. It wasn't that it was cold, I was just nervous. I found comfort in knowing my sister wore the same bracelet--it was a gift from Mom. The sky was cloudy and when the moon did peek through, it cast an eerie glow through the canopy of the trees. The leaves had already fallen and crunched beneath my feet as I walked. By the time I reached the water, it felt like I'd run a marathon. God, I was out of shape. But my sister was no better. Our parents didn't seem to care that we were fat. We loved food and as long as we were happy, they were happy.

As I climbed into one of the boats, I gasped for air and worried that it'd tip over. It rocked from side to side, threateningly. When it finally settled, I exhaled slowly with relief and sat there for a long moment. I inhaled the scent of its wood and looked around, wondering for a moment whether or not I was crazy. Grabbing one of the oars, I ran my fingers along its grain and felt the rough splinters. Another shiver ran through my body. I'd come this far, why give up now? I picked up the second oar and I began to paddle.

The boat glided smoothly along the lake, but I huffed and puffed the entire way. The water was like glass, and I was like a dying animal. I had barely made it a hundred feet from the dock before the pain set in and by the time I was halfway across the lake, my arms ached to the point I wanted to cry. When I finally reached the other side of the water, it was an entirely new struggle to get out of the boat. I held my breath as it leaned dangerously to the side. For a moment, I risked falling into the cold water.

By then, the cloud coverage was complete and there was no longer any moonlight to illuminate the way, so I pulled out my cell phone and flicked the flashlight on. It lit up a surprisingly well-maintained path and I followed it, my palms sweaty from exertion and nerves. I shouldn't have been there, and I knew that. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck raising in protest, but I had to know what was on this island. I had to know why there was a map of it in that notebook.

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As I continued along the path, an old, decrepit house eventually came into view. It was a mansion. Something that, at one time, was undoubtedly gorgeous. Our family was wealthy, but I never imagined it was old money. My parents didn't act like it, anyway. They weren't snobby or uptight. In fact, they were often the life of the parties when they went, and often they brought us along to have our cheeks pinched and all that good old annoying stuff that older people do. This house though… man. I tried to imagine it in its glory days, and I just don't think I could do it justice.

Now, though? Now it just looked like a shell of its former self. Where once stood grand gables and beautiful archways, now stood sagging eaves and leaning pillars. The paint was peeling off of it and many of the windows were broken. Its chimneys were crumbling and in some places, the walls had begun to deteriorate entirely. The door appeared to barely hold on by its hinges.

When I reached the door, I twisted the knob to see if it would open and it did. Immediately, my nose was assaulted by the stench of rot and decay. Dust powdered my face and it took every ounce of self-control not to sneeze. I was afraid that if I did, the whole house would fall down. It just looked so damned delicate. I turned my phone, shining the light back and forth as I took in my surroundings. The place was still furnished, though the cloth of its sofas and chairs was moth-eaten and mildewed. The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling and in some places the walls themselves were crumbling. Cobwebs clung to the chandeliers. It gave off an eerie atmosphere that sent chills down my spine.

I spotted a set of rickety stairs leading upwards and decided to continue my exploration, thinking I'd find something cool. Maybe an old haunted heirloom or something. That's when I heard a squelching noise coming from one of the other rooms on the floor I was on. Fear froze me. It's probably just a raccoon or squirrel, I tried to rationalize with myself, but really I wasn't so sure. I was terrified. It could be anything in such a huge, old house. None the less, I metaphorically "grew a pair" and began wandering through the rooms of the house's lower level. First I found study, a library full of old books that, if I had to guess were probably worm eaten, and then a dining room.

In the dining room, I found a jewelry box. Odd place for that, right? I lingered momentarily and swept my gaze around the room, almost as if expecting someone to pop out and surprise me. By this time my hands were shaking, but I managed to put down my phone, pick up the box, and open it. Inside were several bracelets just like the ones my sister and I wore. I freaked out and dropped the box. That's when I heard that awful noise again. It was coming from the next room over: the kitchen. Shaking uncontrollably, I grabbed my phone and, shining the light ahead of me, walked into the kitchen. That was where I found them.

My parents. They were eating something. It was raw and blood was smeared all over their faces. Its entrails hung from their mouths and when I entered the room they both looked up at me. Mom's mouth fell open, gore spilling from within as she stared, awestruck before swapping a glance with Dad.

"What the fuck! What the fuck! What is this?" I demanded, my voice shrill and panicked. I mean, I just walked in on my parents chowing down on some uncooked mystery meat like savages. Dad stood from where he was hunched over and made to approach me, his index finger lifting to his lips in a shushing motion. That's when I saw it, hanging from the wrist of my parents' victim. The bracelet. It wasn't mystery meat they were eating. It was my sister.