The house
does not say anything. It is not capable of speech. The house only watches.
Always watching.
The house
has grown to love its inhabitants. They are beautiful, the house sees this now.
It once thought of them as pests, and infestation. But now it loves them. They
are the house’s family.
The house
watches the children grow up. The parents are getting older and older, but it’s
ok because the house is getting older too. When the older son leaves the house
for college, the mother cries. For days. She is sad. The house cries with her.
For her pain is the house’s pain.
One night
while the family is out to celebrate the daughter’s engagement, the house is
broken into by a group of men dressed in all black. Their faces hidden under
thick black ski masks. The house tries to scream out, but the house is not
capable of speech.
The burglars
steal all the valuable items they are able to carry. Anything else, they smash.
They punch holes into the house’s interior walls. They piss on its floors. They
break most of the windows. And when they are finished, they run away laughing.
Through the
silence, the house is terrified. It is sure the burglars will come back. The
house stares out into the dark night, wondering where its family is, and when
they will be home.
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