That Dark House, at the End of the Street

November 2, 2011
By Adrianita BRONZE, Clearwater, Florida
Adrianita BRONZE, Clearwater, Florida
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Out through the door
Cut through the front yard
Slide out of the gate.
Creaking, it shuts on its own accord.
The spur of the bike tires
turning on the sidewalk.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

The sun is setting.
Better run, little one.
How valiant you are.
Valiant indeed.
You left your friend in there,
all alone and in need.

She told you not to go looking,
she told you "Don't you dare.
Don't you dare go near that house, Avery."
But you didn't listen,
You were curious.
You and your lost friend, both.

Curiosity killed the cat, eh?
What will you tell everyone,
oh, valiant one?
You were only curious,
you only wanted to know
you went exploring to discover
what was holed up in that dark house
at the end of the street.

That dark house,
with its broken windows,
with its barred up windows,
with the grass all grown out,
and the door off its hinges.

That dark house,
that no one prefers to speak about,
that no one wants to go near,
that no one wants to see,
and that no one wants to have there.

That dark house,
where teenagers drink,
where they play tricks and dares,
where darkness is its own character,
creeping up behind you.
Creeping up behind your friend, Avery.

Avery, you silly explorer.
You silly little fool!
How dare you go in that dark house,
at the end of the street,
and leave me!

I see you now, 15 years later.
Your kids are so precious,
your wife so beautiful.
You left me in this house,
on that one October day.
Abandoned, alone, forgotten.
I inhibit this house and all its gruesomeness.
And any explorers seeking out fun,
well, I'll have my own fun.

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