Houses

  Sometimes, It seems as if houses had faces. Have you ever seen those huge victorian houses with the paint peeling, and that house always gives you the creeps when you drive by it? It seems as if the upstairs windows were long, frowning eyes. The porch-deck is a deep frown. The old door is a crooked nose. "The house wants to swallow me whole!" You think.

  Too bad I live by one of those houses. It could eat all up at night, while I'm sleeping in my room, dreaming about fairy princesses. (Yea, right .  . .well, you get what I'm saying, right?) Or maybe it could eat me while I'm in the back yard, either playing with Kalie, or reading the newest Skeleton Creek book, or maybe while I'm soaking up as much vitemen d as I can while sleeping/napping (which brings us back to the whole fairy-princess thing). Oh well. You can't have everything you want.

  Maybe the house is waching my every move. Creepy, a house-stalker. I thought I would have a stalker at one point in my life, but I imagined it to be one of my creepy ex-boyfriends instead of a haunted house . . .

 

  It's creepy, knowing someone might be watching me. Why do they need that?
  ~Robert Stone