MicroHorror

February 5, 2007

This house had a beating heart.

This house had a beating heart. It pulsed and boomed. Shaking the floors and deafening the kids. No one else heard it or saw it, but they felt it. They could feel it when they opened the door. It made them walk to the side. Pause for a breath. Shake it off like they were going crazy. They don’t know what crazy is. A few steps and then the walls crack. The ceiling falls. Beams land and break bones. They look at me and wonder why I’m not upset or panicked. Why don’t I try to dodge the collapse? Why aren’t I being crushed? They hold out their hands for help. They plead for my intervention. It’s not gonna happen. The floor opens and they sink. The fall down the hole the house made for them. I’m not supposed to look down when they’re taken. It’s one of the rules. I don’t dare disobey.

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