Category : Stories

Sub Category : Suspense/Mystery

The books become arranged 
They are alive more than you think
Curiosity of a selling spine
Pages turn
The room becomes dim 
Vulnerable to sound 
The energy is just a house
A depth of tampered objects 
A value of truth 
The walls are closing in
Your knees are weltered 
Obsession of Claster phobia 
What’s beneath is terroir 
You fear nothing but what you invite in
A list of instructions 
A room with a lock 
No ones to be home
The grass was dead
Air to be dry
Tomato’s plants drenched as to be watered 
Nobody’s home as they say
Family photos as if there were kids
Swivel door locks from the outside in
A fire pit consists of burned books and papers
Yet nobody’s home they say.
The smell of ammonia late in the evening 
A laundry room of no detergent 
Dressers of stains 
Walls with a fear of drag
Rocks resembling of burials
Suburbs with a house of horrors 
Literatures of crime and torture 
You are consumed 
I can feel you in the structures
Come earliest as we please
Wondering specific times we depart
Yet nobody’s home. 
A room with a side entrance
Windows of cracked blinds
It was to good to be true
Cheapest rate within miles
We are not alone
You watch
Listen 
Trap
The house is alive 
Yet we are alone