Below is a short story I entered into NPR's three minute fiction contest. The rules were to write a story that could be shared in under three minutes and to use the first and last lines NPR provided.
Some people swore the house was haunted. And who could disagree? Ever since the old man traveled overseas, not a single inhabitant left the home intact. No one died, mind you. Not literally. But emotionally, spiritually, mentally, they all suffered some sort of death. And that, can often be worse than living.
It seemed too good to be true. A charming home for rent on a quiet tree lined street ...such a rarity. But the old man, hesitant to sell his beloved sanctuary, did just that. He opened it up for lease, with plans to return home once his travels were complete.
They came eagerly, in pairs of two, four, even six. Not a single family lasted a year. They came with baggage, intentions, and expectations.
The first couple, newlyweds with twin babies, believed the home would solidify their marriage, make them complete.
The second couple, with four teenage sons, prayed the new space would bring an end to the constant fighting.
And the misplaced suburbanites, with their two kids, dog, and problems in tow, fully believed this was the house that would finally make them happy. Yes, the house in the city would make them happy….
All of them, every single one, put all their hopes and happiness upon the home, and the house reacted from the weight of such pressure.
The newlyweds divorced. The teenagers fought with newfound intensity. And the suburbanites fled to the country. Yes, the country…
The house sat empty, no one would rent it. Word had spread, ‘high turnover’, something was wrong, maybe it was jinxed….. bad energy….
Across the ocean the old man met a young teacher, also traveling. The young teacher, however, was about to return to the States. He had accepted a job, coincidentally, in the very city the old man was beginning to forget.
“What a blessing” the old man thought. He was worried about his beloved home, it had sat empty for too long. He offered the young teacher his home, rent free. “Just look after her for me, I’ll be back, eventually”
(Yes, the home is a she. They all are.)
The young teacher was thrilled at the opportunity. “You meet the coolest people traveling”, he thought. The young teacher lived simply, and was always thankful for a place to sleep. No baggage.
He moved in, and the house, now free from expectations, began to shift and change.
Some people swore they heard her giggle, saw her breathing.
The young teacher, he began to change too. He found himself walking through her threshold, thinking, “I like it here. I could stay here.” These thoughts, at first, took his breath away.
He began to have strange dreams. He could see a woman (a wife?) walking through the hallways, out to the garden. He dreamt of a baby, waking him up in the morning. Never before had he thought of these things. Was he going crazy?
Sometimes he thought he heard the house giggle!
Her heart, and his heart, began to swell, beat in sync. The teacher slept smiling. The house loved to watch his dreams. She thought they were charming.
Word of the old man’s death while overseas (he died in his sleep, he’s still traveling) first came with sadness, and then opportunity. For the old man bequeathed the home to the young teacher, and the young teacher accepted it graciously.
Through the hallway, out by the garden, gentle giggles greeted the teacher each morning, and the house sighed with sweet relief…
Nothing was the same again after that.
@carrieherzner2010
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