The House October Keeps

The house at the end of the street, during October it materializes so discreet. It’s shutters in need of repair, a door that’s hardly even there. The house, it seems, appears out of thin air.

A baby’s cry, a haunted laugh, listen closely, you’ll find the path. However for some, it calls to them like an eerie dream, a hidden gem. Or its name crawls out like twisted phlegm.

A lonely place, there’s no one home. It’s stillness inside you feel in your bones. A witch lived there, some say it was a pair, or a vampire lair,  or a madman’s snare. Whatever the truth, enter if you dare.

But when it calls your name, or you enter in vain, the House comes to take its claim. It’ll take you if you grieve, it’ll take you if you sneak. Because all who enter never leave, only showing up on Halloween.

Step inside, close the door, don’t mind the blood stains on the floor. You’re safe you think, brave with drink, but then you suddenly care to blink.  It doesn’t matter who you are, it doesn’t discriminate near or far. But those it calls to can’t resist, it’s temptation pulling them by the wrist.

Like a monument, a moment you won’t forget, when your loved one came and went. Overtaken and heart-breaking, you can’t stop them from the House that’s waiting. Threshold inviting they step right in, never to be seen again.

The House comes to claim its prize, stealing someone’s or maybe a few other’s lives.  Whether the House called you there or you aren’t bothered by “beware”, the House seals it door and won’t let you go anywhere. No one to save you, this I swear, only for hope in an answered prayer.