There’s something about this house that’s a little different. Not what it’s made of – that’s all pretty standard fare – but what it is – or what it seems to be.
This kind of thing has happened quite a lot, but I remember one particular night last January when I was out with the canid for his evening constitutional. It was dark and cold, and I am not reluctant to tell you that as I walked past this house I suddenly felt completely uncomfortable. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt tingling up and down my spine as I stopped on the sidewalk and peered into the upper bedrooms. Light from a distant street lamp cast weak, eerie shadows on the house, but it was that sense of being watched – of interacting with something unknown – which was the most unsettling. I must have stood there for a good five minutes, staring. It was as if I were transported, contemplating, waiting for something to happen.
It didn’t. Thank goodness.
The house has been for sale many times over the years and I’ve often wondered why.