• As I walked away from the hell that I had spent a month in, I thought of something; Of all the spirits I had seen. I looked towards the house, and I saw them. The girl, the dog, the business man, the farmer, the psychopath. They all stared through the houses unbreakable windows, with a type of sadness that mingled with a smile on their pale, translucent faces. It was then that I realized it. The ghosts were trying to kill me. They were trying to kill me before the house did. For if the house killed me, I would share their fate. I looked at the faces, and they looked down, to the bottom step of the ground floor patio. I looked at the patio too, seeing the same thing I saw on the first day I was here. The old rickety steps were still held up by that one out-of-place brick. I looked up at the spirits again, and they stared at me, as if asking me to do something. Then I got it. I stepped over to the patio, and pulled the brick from under the patio steps. They collapsed, but the house remained, stable and forboding. I stepped back, and with the hardest throw I had ever managed, threw it at one of the house's french windows. The window cracked, then broke completely, showering the parlor inside with shards of glass. The house seemed to moan, and I heard a noise that sounded like thunder. Suddenly, another window broke, seemingly of it's own will. It sent shards of glass onto the unkempt grass, as if the window had been blown out from the inside. Another window blew out, then another, floor by floor, window by window, until the sky seemed to rain glass. I looked up just in time to see a shard of glass come straight towards me. It took me a moment to realize that it had struck me, feeling the warmth of my blood trickle down my neck. It had stuck into my throat, and I choked on my own blood, falling back onto the ground in the shower of glass. As I looked up into the sky, I felt footsteps next to me, as if people were leaving. I turned my head as best I could, before the pain made my vision blur. I saw the girl, the last on to pass me, stop. Her cut arms and the hole in her chest remained, still making her a horrifying site. But she seemed to emanate a happiness, that her perpetually crying eyes couldn't show. She bent towards me, making my heart race, and my blood flow harder. But, she didn't try to kill me, she didn't even try to frighten me. She leaned over to me, and kissed me on the head, leaving the smoky feeling of her tears on my face. And then she walked away. I turned as far as I could, and I thought that I saw the spirits turn to dust as they walked in the brownish greyish air. It started at the top of their heads, the dust seeming to blow away in an unfelt wind. They were blown away, particle by particle, until only their faint image showed in an almost invisible light. As they reached the end of the driveway, they vanished altogether, leaving me, bleeding and dying on the ground. It was then, that I lost conciousness.
    I awoke to the patter of a cold rain on my face. I sat up, the pain no longer showing it's ugly face. I pulled the shard of glass out of my neck, and threw it to the ground. I stood up, and looked at the house that I knew was dead. I had won. I had survived. I was still drenched in blood, but I could wash it off when I got home. I walked to the end of the driveway, then to the end of the dirt path. I walked until the streets were paved again, and made it to the highway. There was no one out on the road. It was barren of cars, so I had to continue on foot. I walked down the middle of the road, the rain soaking any part of me that was still dry. Blood mixed rain drops dripped off my skirt, leaving a bloody trail on the road. I walked on through the barren, rainy mist, not even the chirp of a songbird to welcome me. I made it to my street. The houses had no lights on, and there were no cars in the driveway. At the and of my street, my house stood, welcoming me home. I ran up the drive, up the steps, and through the door that was always unlocked. I stepped into my house, the quiet weighing down like the rain on my clothes. The grey light from the outside shown in, dust nodes floating lazily through the luminescent beams. I walked through my house, everything the way I had left it. Even my parents room looked as if someone had been in it only moments before. I walked through all the rooms, the kitchen, and the living room, trying to find some clue that someone had been here, to show me where to go. Maybe they would send me to a nice orphanage, one with other children, and a pretty garden. But there was no one, no one had been here since the day I left with my parents. I looked about the room, knowing something was fatally wrong. The clocks had all stopped, all stuck on 7:06. I turned on the t.v., to see static on every channel. It was then that I knew I had lost. I had died at the house's hands, just as it had promised. The shard of glass had made me bleed to death. I was now one of the house's ghosts. All the house needed to survive was one ghost. That, was now me. My only home now, the only hope for me to see people again, was to return to the house, and wait for the next victim, my newest friend, to die at the hands of the evil house. I walked back to the road, noticing as I became more and more transluscent, until I could see the road through my black shoes. I walked down the highway, down the streets until I came to the unpaved roads. I walked up the dirt path, up the driveway, to see my body, bloody and dead, staring into space. I walked over and touched my cold cheek. I picked up my body, it falling limp in my clear arms. I couldn't even feel my weight as I carried myself into the house. The windows were no longer broken, and the steps were held up by a large piece of wood, not allowing it's destruction to happen again. The house seemed to laugh as I walked inside, and it opened a door for me. I walked into the room, that it had decorated for me. Pink and grey wallpaper with dark wood floors. There were toys galore, from a time I wasn't familiar with. There were lights, the only lights in the house that were on. I set my body on the bed, and the house took it for me, only to show itself again when some unlucky person would wander into the house.
    I lived in that house...or rather existed in that house, exploring the places that when I first came, I was too frightened to see. The house provided me with entertainment, the radio coming on sometimes to play beautiful classical pieces that I could dance to. I grew to like the house.
    One day, I sat in my room, playing with a spinning top, and listening to the Devil's trill as it's intoxicating sound emanated from the old phonograph on my bedside table. I heard a noise outside, the first noise I had heard that the house hadn't made in years. I felt the house's attention shift, and the music stopped playing. I looked out of my window, to see a little boy, no older than seven stumbling up the driveway. He had a large gash on his head, though he was obviously still alive; I could hear his heart from my window. He was crying and shivering, drenched head to toe, even though it wasn't raining. He banged on the front door, and with no answer, he entered the house. I heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and looked toward my bed to see my body, placed on the bed as if it were sleeping. To the unknowing eye, one would think we were twins, one playing while the other slept. The boy opened the door and looked at me, crying and shaking.
    "Please" He said, "M-my Mom and Dad....they drove into the lake...I made it out...but I don't know where they are." He watched me, and I watched him, setting my top on the floor. "Can you help me?" He asked. I simply looked at him and smiled.
    "Welcome home"