It was our dream, wasn’t it?
We found the house – the home – seemingly out of nowhere when we were desperate. We couldn’t afford to live downtown anymore. It was just too pricey and they wanted us out of there. They did everything they could to get rid of us and, finally, it became too much for you. I was on the verge of snapping, myself, but you went first. You screamed that we needed to leave, needed to find a new place to live, and I couldn’t argue with you even if I had wanted to do so.
So we looked. We scoured the websites and the papers and everywhere that had houses available. It wasn’t easy. There weren’t many, to say nothing of any with a reasonable price that we could afford. We started to panic. I know I did, at least. We couldn’t live where we were, but we couldn’t find another place to live either. It was terrifying.
Then, as if a gift from the universe, we came across The House. Old, yes. In need of a bit of TLC and fixing up, yes. In any other time, we probably wouldn’t have looked twice at the creaky, spooky place. But in our time of need, it was perfect. The owner had recently died and put the house on the market with explicit instructions to keep the price reasonable.
We put in a bid as soon as we could. Even with that, I know we weren’t hopeful. We had had that hope beaten out of us with rejection after rejection. To our surprise, though, the offer was accepted! No negotiation. No haggling over who would pay for what costs. Just a yes and an agreement to cover everything involved with the moving and exchange process. An absolute win for us, wasn’t it, darling? Suspicion didn’t even cross our minds once during the whole process. We were too happy.
We moved in as soon as we could and found that, despite the slightly-creepy aesthetic, the place was well-kept inside. No dust on ancient portraits. No spiderwebs clogging the corners of houses. It was neat and clean and a bonus we had not expected. Somehow, someway, our luck had changed in the biggest fashion.
We believed that, didn’t we, love? We truly believed that we had been blessed. It was only when we found out why the house was so cheap that it became clear to us what we had gotten involved with. The reason why the house was so immaculate inside without a speck of dirt anywhere. We found that once we entered, we could not leave again. Ever.
I remember your thoughts on that first horrifying day. People will miss us! We have lives! They will come looking for us! They were my thoughts as well. It’s why, when I see a version of myself that is not me leaving the house, I feel that hope slip away.
We will not be missed because ‘we’ are not absent.
Here is where I''ll post random stories that aren't, as of yet, in a larger book. Call it a free ride into the mouth of madness, yo.