Dreams Of Houses

At night I dream of houses. Ones I haven’t seen in years, places I used to live, or stay at, or simply just visited once, some long time ago. Retracing the layout of the rooms in my mind, floor plans and blueprints etched out in perpetuity in the architecture of my mind.

Yet always still there’s grey areas in these maps, smoke-filled absences at the edges of my mind. Houses where people’s bedrooms remained unseen behind permanently shut doors. Basements or lofts never entered. Garages always locked.

These places are always nothing but shadows to me. Even now, there could be anything back there.

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Notes:

1. Written on November 10th, 2022

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The House On The Hill

The house on the hill is entirely hollow. No windows, no floors, no stairs, no doors. You can see the moon above while you sleep. All that resides there now are spiders, memories, birds nests, teenagers, ghosts, dust, leaves, dreams, rust, love.

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Notes:

1. Written on the 2nd of August, 2022

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Tale #107: The House At Dusk

The house at dusk stands out black against the reddening sky, a lone monument upon the hill. The house at dawn looks much the same, yet who can tell what fresh horrors have occurred within its walls during those long hours between.

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Notes:

1. Written on November 18th, 2019

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