The House That Never Sleeps
es that seemed untouched by time. It was the kind of place where outsiders were noticed imme
ce to stay, somewhere quiet where he could focus on writin
also
onal embarrassment and personal frustration pushed him
en he found
low Road,
style home, complete with an attic and basement, sitting on an overgrown property
ty was never as dramatic. Houses were cheap for a reason-bad location, poor u
the landlord, at the
is dark suit looked a little too formal for a simple house viewin
tein asked, glancing at Donald with s
n't you?" Donald replied, shi
said. "But... it
kind of the point. I wri
ips tightene
legends. I figured this house m
ong moment, his eyes unreadable
" he said, voice low and deli
aised an
stay up pas
the open doorway. Donald fel
, almost pitying smil
eless. The furniture, though covered in dust, looked recen
t creaked beneath his steps. There was a fireplace in the ma
ted, with a heavy, antique clock han
a mirror mounted on the closet door. The mirr
orst
s too
st the windows, the hum of distant traffic. But here, in Black
n't pe
s wai
-
ght in t
up his laptop, and
sk with a bottle of cheap whiskey, w
ved there, or something older, something deeper? We tell oursel
ed. Too
r felt
hen-the one that wasn't ticki
ced toward
lway outside his r
ft c
a foo
instinct telling him
rd's words ech
ses at night, do
house settling, an animal
wly reaching for his phone,
utside his ro
ething
d down. The living room below was dar
as he turne
his
tinct. Righ
ound, hear
th
lway wa
vous laugh and went back into his
paranoid
bed, he couldn't
the house was
ing
ght's whiskey. Sunlight streamed through the curta
noticed s
was moved-pulle
open, though he was s
he went
door was
embered locking i
iddle of the room, feeling
Maybe it was just
may
se wasn
om upstairs,
delibera
a foo
ide his be