Faded Secrets

This is one of my short stories, a friend on here, unknowingly gave me the beginning of this story and turns out that he loves it. I have decided to share it with everyone. Please, critic, examine, judge, ext. I am not a professional, but I love to write and receive helpful advise.

Faded Secrets

Ed sat quietly at the top of the center tower in his parents??? Victorian style house. He watched as the carriages passed by at the base of the dirt drive leading to the house. He softly sighed as he rose from his seat and descended down the stairs back down to the main floor. Ed???s eyes wandered the inner walls of the house. The once beautiful and graceful blue wallpaper, now, faded dearly from age and peeling away in odd places, like cheese off of a block. The carpets, once soft and graceful, now fraying like a beast used them to sharpen its claws. Ed slowly ventured through the halls, looking within the rooms, counting the cobwebs and listening to the soft humming cries from caught flies and other flying bugs. He came to a sudden stop, as his being meet face to face with a familiar door. Ed, hesitantly, reached a hand out to the old wooden door. Its hinges, showing many years of use, the doorknob almost formed to the perfect mold of a grown mans hand. He softly ran his hand over the door face, felling the splinters from many times a boy being thrown into the door, before being shoved down the horrid staircase, just past the door. Ed shivered from the memories of his father coming home drunk, and his mother being far away for work.
Forcing himself to shake such memory, he walked quietly into the parlor room. In the big old chair that his father loved oh so much, sat a body. As Ed got closer, he could see the ropes tied to the mans ankles, making the skin around the rope changing soft colors of blue and blacks. His wrists were shackled to the chair, the chains softly clinking as the man breathed. The man breathed in, trying to force air into his lungs, the difficulty and lack of strength could be heard with each breath. Ed walked to the front of the chair and looked down at the man. He was malnourished and looked like a bag of bones being held together with skin. His shirt, having been shredded, revealed skin, with scars and claw marks from small rodents. The man looked at Ed, with a plea for help but soon lost his strength and passed out for a second. Ed looked away from the man and walked to the front door. Out the front window, he could see lights flickering out, as people were heading to bed. Ed opened the door and closed it firmly behind him. Ed walked calmly to the middle of the drive and turned to look at the house, as he looked up to the center tower and saw the reflection of his mothers face, a wicked grin drew itself onto Ed???s face.
Fog quickly began to swarm around the old house on the hill, and no one could understand why. As a little girl sat on her window, her feet dangling against the side of her house, she watched, mesmerized, as the fog stopped at the edge of the property. She was told a boy named Ed used to live there with his mother and father. Everyone knew the story of Ed and how his mother was murdered, in the center tower, by his father. Every one knew, and everyone who passed tried hard not to look up to the windows, for you could see the mother, standing in the center tower. An all the kids, whom were dared to venture to the houses steps, could hear the father???s screams and cries for help. But she, she alone has seen Ed, for every night, right before the fog comes in, he exits his house and fades away in the same spot he was said to have killed himself to stop him from burring his home.
To this day, you can still venture to this house to see and hear such things. But the one thing no one will ever be able to hear are the screams and cries of a young boy who was harmed by his drunken father for fifteen years.