There is a house in the middle of nowhere. It looks nice enough, obviously it was once a family home, but upon closer inspection one might notice the paint is dirty and the flowerbeds have grown wild. Otherwise there is nothing to suggest the house is unsafe.
Inside the house is inexplicably cold. The light from outside does not get through the clouded windows. There is no furniture, the walls are bare and cracks run along every one. The floorboards creak threateningly beneath the feet of any who dare trespass.
Sitting in the middle of the floor there is a girl, holding her knees to her chest with a subtle desperation, as though trying to keep from falling apart. Her parents built the house for her, but ultimately it is her own. The maintenance is all her responsibility, but she has spent so long in the dark she can no longer remember what the house was supposed to look like. Sometimes there is a light on the porch, and laughter, when people visit, but don't venture into the house. When this happens, she is able to escape her tiny world of fear and misery. It never lasts though, and before too long, she is again sitting alone in the dark. There, she is haunted by the ghosts of all those who once filled this hollow place. Their voices ring out around her, so loud sometimes that they shake the delicate walls. It's a wonder they have not yet crumbled, crushing her.
Over the years, the girl continued to invite people into her home and allowed them to take from it what they needed, never asking for anything in return. The first who came through here took the electricity. Of course day still shone in the window and there was still a fire in the hearth, so the girl did not notice the house growing steadily colder. This is why she sits alone on the floor in a house so still the sound of her choking breath echoes back to her. The last man who came through was there for a long time, he needed support. When he left, he took the internal walls. Now the house creaks dangerously, threatening every day to fall down around her.
Still, she invites another man inside. When he comes, he bring with him a lantern. This is not the first time anyone has brought something with them to her home, but it IS the first time anyone has left something when they've gone. The lantern is kept in the center of the hollow home, illuminating the damage done by the ghosts. She sees work to be done and plans to fix the place up, make it better so the man with the lantern will continue to return. The oil in the lantern burns out alarmingly fast, but the man happily returns with fresh oil to burn away the darkness. She wishes she had something left to give him, but he never asks for anything in return.
She lives in terror that he too, will one day leave that place and forget, giving fresh memories to a new ghost that will forever haunt her, like so many others already do. There is no knowing how many more ghosts the house can hold before crumbling. The place is so desolate that even allowing herself to cry and rock herself to sleep like she longs to do could bring it down around her. She tries to hold on to the man with the oil, tighter every time he returns, causing him to squirm in a way that validates her fears.
Maybe one day they will rebuild it together, and it can be a family home again. Most likely he will leave, like everyone else has. Most likely he will move on and forget. For now she sits alone, haunted.
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