My short story- You guys choose the title-Writing Wednesday

I can't say I particularly like babysitting. For a long time, I grew an extreme fear of children. Their spotty noses and constant need for attention makes them seem like little dependent critters,its almost horrifying! So much so, when I see a child, I scarce realise how I could have been so small. But, if I don't babysit, there's no money which as I'm sure we all know, is exactly what a teenager wants and needs in their life. So I babysit. I watch Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom on repeat or even Pepper Pig. I make the food, clean the bits of spit off the table, take a whole entire our to put two crying twins to bed and by the end of it, I get 20 pounds! Amazing. Not. And by the sounds of it, on this particular night, babysitting was about to get a whole lot worse. 

I turned up to Mrs Humphires front porch at 6pm and the usual crying children could be heard from outside. I hear it so often that I have absolutely no clue why I haven't gone deaf already. I walk in as usual and set my bag on the highest peg possible since last time I babysat this family, I found a snapped debit card at the bottom of my bag. After Mrs Humphire has fed the children, she put them to bed, and by 7pm, I was left guardian of the house.

I usually watched TV but at this point the house seemed almost too intriguing not to look around. After nearly smashing on old china bowl in a cabinet, I found an old dusty book which seemed to fit my fancy. Carelessly, I tore open the book and hundreds of tanned pages flew out in an ecstasy of excitement like birds on a rampage. There,in the pile of papers,lay a creepily old black and white photo of a girl around 2. Out of shear curiosity I looked on the back and the dates 1867-1869 read on the back along with the single sentence the sad murder of Emily Rose Humphire.

As soon as you know something, you can't unknow it. But unknowing what I just saw and read was exactly what I wanted to do. In a haste of distaste I piled the old pages together and untidily stuffed it back to the cabinet from where it was found. It could have just been an old book bought from a charity shop, but I didn't want to be seen snooping around looking back over someone's sad family history. So I just reverted back to the sofa and back to the TV and that was the end of that.

What is the title to this story? Let me know in the comments below and I'll be sure to reply to them. I ♡ hearing from you!

See you next time,

Bye,

XOX, Juliette

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