The abandoned house groans like an old woman as a nifty wind buffets the shack.
Window frames bang against window sills routinely at different corners of the house.
The swing hooked to the old oak tree at the backyard complains as the rusted metals holding the contraption rub against each other with the force of the wind.
The front door had fallen off at one point and so the house invites us inside to take refuge from the billowing elements.
The front door leads directly to a large, almost empty space that should be a living room.
Wallpapers peeled off, plaster fallen off the walls in patches like fairy dust.
It is almost empty, save for a rocking chair.
It does not move, even as stray children of the wind find their way into the abandoned shack of a house.
Somewhere within the house, an old grandfather clock booms the hour and as if on cue, the house is whipped into a frenzy.
Creaks.
Groans.
Moans pass through the walls and if one should press their ear to them, they’d swear they heard conversations.
The stairs squeak, as if someone of great bulk is climbing down.
The grandfather clock stops booming at twelve and suddenly, the rocking chair begins to move slowly.
Almost happily; like a dog that has sighted his master.
The stairs stop squeaking and the floorboards take over the squeak, almost sounding like footsteps that lead to the living room and eventually, to the rocking chair.
The chair rocks faster…
Faster…
FASTER!
Almost in a frenzy that if it were human, it would have been foaming at its lips with excitement.
A big crash and as if a weight had fallen on it, it stops.

A low  murmur, old crooning…
The empty rocking chair begins to move, as if controlled.

There is just one glass that has not fallen off a window frame in the house. The glass is in the living room. The rocking chair faces the windows.
Reflected on it, a fat woman sitting, staring at the naive soon-to-be-permanent-guests of the house; You and I.
Face, as black as night.
Hair, as white as snow.
Teeth, as red as blood.

She watches us as we run into the house to take refuge from the heavy rain that just began to fall.
“Wow! That was bloody sudden!” you mutter as you look around and sighting the chair, make for it.
You sit on it and invite me with open arms to sit on your lap.
Together, we sit, gazing at nothing.
We do not notice the reflection.
We only shiver a little; maybe from a chill.
Maybe because reflected, she just pulled us into herself.
One big hug.

Face, black as night.
Hair, white as snow.
Teeth, red as blood.

———————————————————————-

Another flow of random energy amassed as words.
I would settle down soon enough for  proper story.
Promise.

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