By Melissa L. Webb
I don’t like empty houses. It seems like a weird thing to confess, but it’s true. I never have. They feel different than other houses.
Darker, colder, and unnatural, empty houses sit there like a festered sore you don’t want to talk about.
There’s a heaviness oozing out of every crack I can feel when I’m too close. That seems impossible for such a hollow place. Emptiness should be nothing but emptiness. But it isn’t so in empty dwellings.
They say ‘Nature abhors a vacuum,’ and maybe that’s the reason the buildings feel this way. The idea of an empty space goes against the laws of physics. And to have a dwelling something must dwell in it.
What it is that takes over these places I can’t even begin to understand. Maybe it’s some dark entity jumping from place to place like a hermit crab. It stays in some vacant house absorbing energy around it until its evil has outgrown the walls. Then it leaves, looking for a new emptiness to nurture its development.
Or has the thought of something creeping in while no one was left to drive it out been enough to create it? Is it our fears becoming reality?
I can see the things that slink through the rooms of the house vivid in my mind. I know what I fear will stare out a window if I stare too long at it. Is that projection enough to create something? I don’t know the answer to that. What I do know is that empty houses hold a presence that is as real as anything else. And it is something that should be feared.
So…let me ask you this: What are you filling the empty house near you with?
© 2013 Melissa L. Webb
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