Curiosity Stole My Voice

I used to be very inquisitive, my teachers would always tell me that “curiosity killed the cat”, but I didn’t care I just had to know everything; of course my insatiable curiosity wouldn’t last forever.

One day I was biking home in a hurry to catch a television program when I passed a house with it’s front door open, I couldn’t help but look in, and there I saw a woman, standing, looking out the door. I couldn’t see her face but I don’t think she was looking at me. She scared me. I don’t know why she scared me, but it wasn’t just fear I felt: I had a great sense of curiosity as well. Why was she standing there? What was she looking at? Who, or what, was she waiting for? And why did she scare me so?

The next day I passed her house again, and again she was standing in the middle of her front hall, just looking out the open door. I never saw her face. I passed her house every day for the next week, and every day she was standing there, just looking, and every day I had the same nervous feelings that I’d felt on the first day.

Then one day she was gone. Why had she left? Where had she gone? Had whatever she was waiting for finally arrived? Was it because I kept looking at her as I passed? She wasn’t there for the rest of the week either, her door was still open but she was gone. I felt more fear and curiosity than I had the first time I saw her. So one warm afternoon after I rode past her house and didn’t see her, I decided to try and resolve my curiosity, at the cost of my fear. I parked my bike a few houses up the street, not locking it, I wanted a quick getaway, and went back to the house on foot. Franticly I looked all around to see if anyone was watching, looking back I don’t think anyone cared. When I got to the door I tapped it, lightly, and in a quiet voice said, “Hello?” There was no response.

Gathering my courage I slipped past the door and began to walk down the narrow hallway, I felt a chill when I passed where she used to stand. The smell was terrible. The hall ended with a kitchen half obsured around a corner. Inching my head around the wall I saw her, lying face down, a knife in her back, blood all around her. I screamed. I ran from the house with tears streaking down my cheeks.

It was little more than a second that I saw her like that, but since then I’ve been known as one of the quietest students in my school.

Curiosity Stole My Voice


Joined January 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

A young boys curiosity gets the better of him.

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