Black House
by Mark Reep
Where will I go now? Oh,
I don't know. I dreamt once
a child's drawing of a house
all scribbly black crayon
swayback roof crooked
chimney. God, do you
remember how cold it was
that night? Oh, that's right
you weren't there. I tried
to call a fire, but fire
never liked me. That all
seems so long ago. I don't
get cold much anymore.
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Author's Note
Published in Horror Sleaze Trash.
Other stories by Mark Reep
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Strange. Good strange, though.
each word in its rightful place.
Sam, Sally, Misti- Thanks, guys!
Oh, that's right /
you weren't there.
Don't know why I love this line so much, but I do.
This has such a casual feel and then it grabs you, over and over... I like how you manage to do that.
Thanks, Jane!
Michelle, thank you. Glad you enjoyed!