House

The acoustics on a brittle winter’s day linger in the cold dry air. Distorted sounds of distant traffic from the state highway or young Amish children playing on the farm just around the bend sound closer than they actually are.

House, who is forgotten, hides around that bend on an old dirt road. House likes the sounds the wind carries with it.

 Her breath makes sharp frost as it leaves her mouth. She is walking toward the house, which locals like to gossip about over coffee and slumber party tales of dead bodies scare fourth and fifth graders.

Elaina is drawn to House.

He can hear her feet crunching in the snow. When she stands there looking up at him, his walls swell. House holds his rafters a bit straighter, a hint taller when Elaina stops by.

The dark windows are missing their glass panes. Remnants of paint on the wood siding are grey from years of wind, grime and neglect. The sidewalk that once had hopscotch and laughing children is overgrown.

Elaina always stops. She stairs up at House.

House mustered up the courage and talks to her.

“Why do you come here so often?”

“Believe it or not, your old walls give me a feeling of peace. I can’t explain it; it just runs through me.”

“If you come in, your light will shine in this old place. I can give you the peace you seek.”

“I don’t think my light is strong enough to light your walls.”

“I think it is.” House says sincerely.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” She walks on.

Waves churned in House, deep from the ground, whenever Elaina came around. His core swayed as she stood staring at him from twenty feet away. He loved her so.

“I may seem like an old dilapidated house. You are just looking at the shell of who I once used to be.”

 “If you come inside, my walls will warm again.”

“I sometimes dream I am busting at my seams with people laughing, celebrating again. I sometimes dream I am alone with you in the quiet of night.” House says.

“Alone, with me?”

“I once shined. I had windows with thick luxurious curtains. Rugs that were hand-made rested through-out.  Beds with oversized frames and soft mattresses. When the wind was still, the coils squeaked sometimes on hot summer nights.”

 “Every room had a lamp then eventually a light. I remember the surge I got when the house first flowed with electricity. That is how I feel whenever you come around.”

“Look down at your feet.” House says. “All you have to do is step over the precipice. I will keep you warm and safe in my walls.”

Elaina looks down at the crack in the cement. Her toes just over the line.

“You are so close, come over to my side. A bit of you is already here.”

A wave in Elaina’s gut starts to swirl and churn.

She lifts her foot.