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The Lonely House

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At night the house was silent.
There was silence outside besides the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees.
A small snapping noise in the night was earsplitting to the house.
Inside the house the beds seemed to stare at the ceiling, lonely.
A man walked down the street, his feet seeming to be rocks being dropped on the ground.
The man stopped for a moment, looked at the house, and took in the silence, and walked away.
As his footsteps died away, the man knew the house was deserted.
The lonely house lay silent, waiting for one who would never return.



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