In an ordinary town, on an ordinary street, there is an ordinary house. A little older than any other house, but ordinary, nonetheless. If you passed this house you wouldn’t think twice about it. In fact, you wouldn’t think about it all.


Unless she wanted you to think about it.
If she wanted you to see the house, you would. You would want to go to this house and you would want to walk up to the door.

Because she wanted you to, you would knock on the door and patiently wait until the door opened. You would then enter the ordinary house on the ordinary street in the ordinary town and you would never leave.
Because she would never want you to leave.

You wouldn’t be missed. No-one would wonder where you had gone, or what had happened to you, or whether you had ever been in their lives at all. You wouldn’t even be a fond memory.

Only in their darkest moments, when the night seemed just that little bit too long and that little bit too quiet, would there be an itch of a memory. A fleeting glimpse of someone that had once been important.

And then, like the softest breeze on a hot summer’s night, it would be gone again. You would be lost and forgotten.

She wouldn’t want you to be remembered because then the memory of you could become real and you may leave her ordinary house. She wouldn’t want you to leave or she wouldn’t have anything to feed upon.

She doesn’t feed on flesh, though. She feeds on your possibilities. She feeds on your what-might-have-beens. She feeds on your future and your past. On your dreams and your fears. She feeds on your ‘you’.

And she is always hungry.

There have been many people, over the years, that have been invited into the ordinary house. They are still there, in the shadows. Forgotten. Empty.

Even when she has eaten from them completely, she will not let them leave. She likes the company of the dead. Even though they have never stopped moving. Shuffling hither and thither, trying to find a piece of themselves.

Come! See the ordinary house! Walk up to the door and knock gently. Wait. Wait a little while for the door to open and then enter in to an eternity of emptiness. She’s waiting for you and her hunger is never-ending.

Story up there ^^^^^^^^

#Horror “An Ordinary House”

Hashtags here: #MicroFiction, #MicroStories, #MiniFiction, #MiniStories, #TinyTales, #TinyStories, #FlashFiction, #AmWriting

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