By Kjanela Fawcett
The house sighed—a draft through the halls—as a human stepped inside. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” they muttered, quiet, but not quiet enough. “Stupid haunted house.”
Rude. An offended huff escaped, wind rushing through the room.
The human made a high-pitched noise. “Sorry! Nice house, good house!”
It was a good house, not that the human appreciated that. The house didn’t see a reason to keep them around.
It gave a creepy laugh, with creaking floors and wind down the hall. The human screamed, before jumping and running for the door.
The house sighed in relief. Alone again.
I see this as the start of a creepy novel.
Fantastic piece. House felt like a grumpy old man not wanting to be disturbed. Well done.
If only the walls could speak. I like this.