"When I was ten, I broke my arm falling from a window. Doc Bridges said I was a lucky bastard. Well, he didn’t say those words, because I was a kid, but you could see it in his eyes. Doc Bridges had been a Marine during the Fall of Saigon, which resulted in the largest helicopter evacuation in history. The guy had seen some wild shit. So when he sternly told me, “You are one amazingly lucky young man", I knew he was just being professional. What he meant to say was: You are one lucky little sonofabitch. I’d fallen from the third floor of the Taylor House, an abandoned colonial mansion on the edge of town. Nobody had lived in the place for seventy years, not since the last tenant hanged himself in a closet after losing everything in the Crash of ‘29. Since then, part of the roof had caved in, and in the 1960’s an unknown arsonist destroyed the barn in a fire."
It gets stranger from there. What starts off sounding like an innocent children’s prank rapidly turns chilling and vaguely threatening, like something dreadful’s about to happen but you’re not sure what. One of the better story openings I’ve read. Read more here.