Jess Fox

Writer, Coder, Designer, Entrepreneur

138

5

The Suffering House

The wind rustled the cloak on my back, snapping it back and forth. I shivered and bent closer to the horse's neck. We steadily faced the path, which seemed to grow narrower with every turn. The birches swayed and drooped, reaching for our heads. I saw a break in the trees and we moved out of the wood, into the full blast of a winter wind. An open field stretched out before us and bordered an ancient tree grove, swallowing the remains of a three story cottage.

The house had streaks of dirt running under its window sills, as if it cried in pain. Dark, hollow shadows filled it and hid whatever beings dwelled inside. The chimneys were less than stubles on the cracked roof. The craftsmen doors, once works of art, rotted to pieces. The house nearly groaned with agony of a long life, memories echoing in the tree grove surrounding it. Now it only whispered the names of the people who once lived inside.

Leaning forward, I patted the horse's neck. "I hope you like it, because we're staying here tonight."

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