More from Elancia Chronicles!

It took the better part of an hour to pry the boards away from the door, move the vines, and everything else I'd piled up eleven years ago. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and its first rays were on my back as I finally managed to make the door move.
It was so dark inside. So full of dust. Something fell over -- I wasn't sure what. Water was getting in from somewhere. Smelled like a few ferals had been in and out. The ceiling was sagging, the paintings and photographs on the walls were either barely hanging on or missing. The cupboards were open... Most of our old belongings were intact, at least.

It was hard to be in there. Everything was faded and broken. The weather had gotten in just like the ferals. It had warped and rotted most of everything. I moved to the old piano. Atop it was an old photograph... Mother, father, and their stupid little... offspring.
I chanced to touch a key on the piano... Like a memory, the slightly off-key sound of it assaulted me, and reminded me of things I'd locked away.
They were gone again in an instant, and when I saw what had been done to the upstairs, I desperately tried to chase them down, only to fail.
Someone was tortured here, and I have no memory of it.

~Versearrun's Journal, date unknown