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