Dead Houses Study: I:
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as the last occupant left, the house curled up ever so slightly into itself and began to die. it takes years or decades depending, sometimes centuries, but in the end, as the memories are used up and never replenished, the soul of its past blows away into the night, and only the shell remains.
he shoved on the door, and it gradually gave petulant way, but not without letting him know it wasnt pleased that it took so long for someone to return. this house, his house, the family house, had sat empty for 19 years. he had been gone easily twice that, more than eager to 'let the door hit him on the ass on the way out', as his pa used to say, and not back since. the highway grime coated the windows thick, so as to make it darker and gloomier inside than the day outside would have known. it was like stepping into a bad '50's horror movie. the floor was slick with the layer of year upon years, and gave lightly underfoot. he would have to be careful not to weigh too heavily on it, to crash thru into the depths of the basement, like the house wanted. he crossed the kitchen and upped the stairs, his bedroom lay door ajar, crooked on a single hinge, bekoning for his memories. too many angry nights spent imagining a future that would never come, too many daydreams lay piled one on the other and shoved violently into the back of the closet. this place, this house, all it ever wanted was the family. all he ever wanted was to get out. in the end he had won, but he had lost as well, not bothering to close the door on the way out.