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Dream House This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

There, in the middle of deadbeat country, stood a house with crooked teeth and a drip drop roof.  Beyond this house laid a land where seagulls screeched songs of sorrow and despair. This house was a landmark of separation along a salty sea where dark opal waves soaked up the atmosphere like a black hole. The air surrounding the home feels as if a snake has wrapped it’s slippery coils around your neck; although many do not realize how they are already about to be used as a treat for supper. As you walk closer toward the home and open the termite infested front door, a spiral staircase would appear which seems to lead to an abyss of unfinished projects. If you were to look close enough, in the deepest trenches of this abandoned shelter, you would find something brand new. Two figures seemingly so sweet would blink their identical blue eyes and carry you away along with the ocean’s tide.

Listen and you will hear the shiny polished voices of a creature that is ever so near.

Arthur and Molly Watts were simplistic people. Arthur with his mismatched eyes and selfless spirit, Molly with her pouty lips and aggressive heart. The two were polar opposites yet combined with one another as if they were magnetized. He let his thoughts fly around inside his head, like bats in a never ending cave. Molly was not like Arthur, in fact some may have even called her an outspoken loudmouth once or twice in her lifetime. She surely did not let anyone order her around. Molly simply was always in charge. She spoke her mind as if it was a fluent language. There were no such things as thoughts in Molly’s sharp skull; there were only words that came out of her acute mouth. Although, this is what Arthur found tantalizing about her. Molly was a goddess to him, a goddess who spoke in secrets and spells. A woman who he admired just as much as he loved her. If you think admiration and love are the same thing my friend, you are very wrong. Arthur admired her lustrous attitude and corrupt soul. He admired the way she cast away anyone who contravened with her, as well as this he deeply admired the way she held herself upward and how she radiated power. Arthur felt his heart that she would be adequate without him. Nevertheless, he loved her elegance and how she enticed him just by gazing at him. He loved her brown eyes and the way she never forgot to ask him how his day was. He loved how she talked to him as if he were the most euphoric item in her life. For once, Arthur had met someone who made him feel important. Arthur felt as if him and Molly were truly meant for one another.

After three long years, Molly still saw her beloved Arty as the most compassionate man she had ever met. Arty was not a man she typically found herself attracted to; it was his admirable charm which she initially fell in love with. They had met during their late years of high school and one day, Molly was in the library, batting her pretty little eyelashes at a not so intellectual boy. Arty had been pretending to look for a novel, but he simply couldn't quit staring at the magnificent girl before him. Rather than leaving the library once the bell rang, he walked up to Molly and said “Hello, my name is Arthur Watts, and I am going to take your book, if you would like me to return it to you, meet me here tomorrow.” Molly did indeed return to the library, but did not find Arthur there waiting for her; she only found her book from the day before. There was a small, mint colored slip of paper sticking up from the pages. Molly opened her novel: Mrs. Dalloway and found an underlined quote: He thought her beautiful, believed her impeccably wise; dreamed of her, wrote poems to her, which, ignoring the subject, she corrected in red ink. Molly picked up the mint green slip of paper and on it Arthur had written, “My most sincere apologies for taking your novel yesterday. I just wanted to find an excuse to speak to a marvel such as yourself. If you don't find me to be a complete and utter buffoon (which I very much hope you don't), call me at 888-657-2342.” As Molly read the note Arthur had left, she fell for him as a giddy school girl would. She had no idea of who this boy was, yet he had left her some sort of message for her to come and find him. After getting to know the boy whom she met mysteriously in a library, Molly insisted on calling Arthur “Arty” because she said it fit him better than Arthur. “Arthur is a serious name.” Molly had said, “and you are not a serious man.” Arty, was a kind, sincere boy, who later became and ever kinder, more sincere man. He had not changed a bit since he had grown, he was still the same person she had fallen in love in high school. He still had one green eye, and one brown eye. Perhaps his hair was a bit more fluffy, and his smile more uneven, however he was still the same old Arty. Molly found herself to be in love with the oddest parts of him. He had gigantic glasses and each time he took them off, his misty eyes would bulge out of him like a fish out of water. His freckles danced on his face like stars in the sky, and they made up constellations upon his cheeks. His heart was something extraordinary, something that was so ravishing and inviting; it glowed with pure love, which was something Molly had never experienced until she met him. If she lost Arty, she would be a solitary figure in an already abandoned world. Molly felt as if her and Arty were truly meant for one another.

Arthur and Molly Watts were married on a crisp October day in the fall of 2003. They searched for a home which to settle down in, but everything was extremely overpriced and if not, Molly didn't like the kitchen, or Arthur wanted a bigger back yard to garden in; no matter what happened, there was always an excuse to why the house wasn't right for the couple. They just about gave up on their dream house, when they came upon a revelation. There, in the middle of deadbeat country, stood a house with crooked teeth and a drip drop roof; that house would be Arthur and Molly’s home. Two months later, the couple moved into their deserted home by the sea. This house was not built by chance, but because it was a strange forsaken being. All alone on purpose. It was meant to stay vacant, although Arthur and Molly very much ignored that factor.
As they began to settle, the home awoke from its slumber.
“Arty, I'm beginning to regret buying this house,” said Molly as her and Arthur lay in bed together.
“Honey, we’re just started to feel at home, it will get better, trust me.” He clicked off the light, took off his glasses, wrapped his arms around Molly and whispered in her ear.
“As long as I'm with you, my love, everything is just how it was always meant to be.”
Molly embraced her husband and a small smile spread across her face. As long as she had Arty, it mattered not where they lived, the only thing that mattered was that they had each other. Molly held Arthur until she drifted off into a restless sleep. She awoke suddenly as the moon shifted in the sky. Outside, she could hear the silver waves crash down onto the sand, feasting on the earth ravenously. Molly turned her head to see if Arthur had been awoken as well, but she found that the covers of the bed had been lifted and her beloved Arty was nowhere to be seen. She thought nothing of his disappearance, she suspected he must have just gotten up to use the restroom as he often did. So, she lay back down on the bed and turned her head to the look out the window.
There was her beloved husband, growling, looking at her with a carnivorous hunger like no other. He tilted his head with fascination as he stared at her, his eyes glowing with fury. Arthur smiled a deadly smile, the smile of a man who was no longer a man, but something unearthly. Something demonic. He dragged his fingers against the glass as she screamed his name. “Arty! Arty what are you doing?!” Molly cried with terror.
His eyes were the color of the sea. They were not Arty’s eyes. And that was not her husband.
Molly ran out of her bedroom frantically, only to collide into Arthur.
“Molly, what's going on? What happened?” “Arty...” Molly stuttered. “You, you, you had these bright blue eyes! You were just outside the window, scratching your fingers against it, growling… Arthur, you wanted to kill me..”
“Molly, I went to the bathroom. That never happened. You must of had a bad dream,” Arthur said, motioning for Molly to lay back down.
Molly forces Arthur away, looks her husband in his mismatched eyes and says, “No, Arthur, no! You were right there, you were right outside Arthur! You looked like the Devil, you looked exactly like him..”

The next morning, Arthur wakes up to find himself alone in the bedroom. He smells the scent of bacon, and he can hear it crackling on the stove. Molly never once in her life had cooked him breakfast, she could not cook, nor would she ever make an attempt at cooking. Yet there she was, still in her nightgown, making him breakfast. Arthur found it incredibly odd, she was so shaken last night, so afraid.. Why would she be making him breakfast like nothing had happened the night before? She had called him the Devil.. She had called her own husband the Devil.

Arthur walks up to her, embraces her from behind and says, “How are you doing honey? You had quite a scare last night.”
Molly smiles and kisses him on the cheek.
“I'm just fine dear, sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”
Molly served Arthur his breakfast, which was in perfect condition. The bacon was crisp, but not burnt. The eggs scrambled, not at all runny. The pancakes melted in his mouth. The meal was superb. Molly did not make meals in this way.
“Dear, I was thinking we could go for a drive. It is such a divine morning,” Molly says, while picking up Arthur’s clean plate.
“That sounds like a lovely idea.”

When Arthur stepped into the sand, it occurred to him that there were no seagulls soaring through the sky. No life appeared to be on the beach, the world around their dream house was absolutely hushed. He looked up at the sun, only to find a yellow crystal glimmering back at him.
“Come along, Arthur.” Molly said, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the car.
“How strange”, Arthur thought, “Molly never calls me by my name.”
As the couple got into the car, Arthur felt a quiver of panic come across him. He felt like he was choking, but he was sitting in the seat of the car, usual as ever. It was as if a smokey foam had filled his lungs and refused to release itself from his stomach. Arthur quickly ignored his uncertainty and started the car.

Arthur began to drive away from the house, and suddenly felt the urge to look back at the ocean in his rearview mirror. As Arthur gazed inside the glass, he saw his wife; her body stiff and lifeless, being dragged toward the ocean by a man identical to him.
Arthur looked beside him at a woman who was not his wife.
“What's the matter sweetheart?” She said, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

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