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No One Ever Visits...

...And if they do, it’s not for long

By BrettNotGregPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
No One Ever Visits...
Photo by Benjamin Wagner on Unsplash

The house is a total wreck - not that I’m expecting company. No one ever visits, and if they do it’s not for long. There isn’t even any electricity, the only source of light being the candle I burn on the window sill every evening. Every surface is covered with dust, and every corner filled with cobwebs.

Don’t even get me started on the putrid stench which always seems to make me think of death. I suppose I could maybe do something about the odor, but what’s the point? No one ever visits, and if they do it’s not for long.

My last visit was some time ago. A group of teenagers had stopped by. They weren’t the friendliest, but I was desperate for company. Before greeting them, I made my way to the kitchen to see what kind of refreshments I could offer them. I overheard them talking about the smell, and I became a little embarrassed. Nonetheless - being the good host that I believed myself to be - I gathered whatever refreshments I could find and made my way towards the guests. Funny thing, they seemed to leave in a hurry. Was it something I said?

Some time before that, I do recall a group of young adults - maybe five or six of them - with all sorts of cameras and strange equipment barging in uninvited. The whole thing made me very uncomfortable. I’ve never been one for having my picture taken, and the house was in no condition for a video shoot. I politely asked them to leave several times, but they acted as if they could not hear me. Hours went by as they setup all of their odd equipment in my home, further invading my space with every move. I became enraged and began throwing and breaking whatever I could find, including some of their hi-tech gear. That seemed to do the trick. They packed up and left as quickly as they shuffled in.

No one ever-

...Where was I?

I’ve been so disoriented and confused lately, almost as though I’ve been experiencing some sort of psychosis.

Though it’s faint, I have memories of a time when things were much different. The house was lively, and I was seldom without company. I can even recall another person living here with me. I wish I had more to say about said person, but all that comes to mind is the basement, which I haven’t set foot in for some time, accompanied by that awful, awful smell that now engulfs the entire house.

Ah, yes. There is also this strange letter I’ve held onto. It reads:

To whom it may concern:

We could only be happy together, as we only had one another. Downstairs, you will find body #2. Please excuse the mess. The outside world is not for us. Who am I kidding? No one will be looking, anyways. No one ever visits.

Respectfully,

Body #1”

... I’ve never quite been able to make sense of it.

Sometimes I get depressed from being so lonely, then I remember that I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I’ve left this old house.

You see, some time ago, I developed this condition where I bleed profusely from my wrists and throat, oddly always around 11:15 every night. Though it usually clears up after a nice bath, I’ve never felt up to going out since. I have, however, tried a few times. I always black out and come to while I’m vacantly staring out of my window.

No one ever visits, and if they do... it’s not for long.

fiction

About the Creator

BrettNotGreg

Thirty-something creative with a wide spectrum of interests.

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    BrettNotGregWritten by BrettNotGreg

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