I believe that learning is embedded in memory, history and story.

The bitter air blowed as I stepped foot into the poorly lit, seemingly abandoned house down the road. The floor creaked with every step, sounding like the screams of people that once lived there. The  stagnant air gave off an unpleasant smell as I anxiously check my surroundings, I suddenly heard the sound of shattered glass upstairs, and I carelessly decided to investigate. As I stepped closer to the bottom of the stairs, faint whispering started to catch my attention. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew it wasn’t any language from this world. The railings along side the stairs were devoured with rust and the whispering fell silent as I took my first step up the stairs. I cautiously made my way up the stairs until I reached the second floor. There sat a little white teacup that had seemingly struck the floor, I was mysteriously fascinated by this evidently ordinary object, almost as if i grew possessed by something. The sudden sound of a horror-stricken screech startled me into dropping the teacup. I looked up to see myself staring at a shrouded shadow-like figure looking down upon me. I ran down the decaying stairs to find the door locked behind me, I haven’t been able to leave since.