House

Why I was breaking into a house is something you'll find out in the end, the reason why I chose this house...you'll have to figure it out yourself.1

This house has haunted me for years, the way it just sits there in the middle of nowhere. Some things have to be loved, and some things never get that chance. The once green grass is now nothing but a dried scratchy scalp, the front door is hanging on for dear life by half a door hinge. The white paint is flaking and the concrete steps are breaking apart from tree roots growing underneath.2

To most people this house is nothing short of a lifeless shit hole, there is no other way it could be explained. To me...it's beautiful, the broken steps are beautiful. The broken door is beautiful. Even the porch light that is a burial ground for moths, I find that eerily peaceful. I feel this way because this house is just like me.3

Broken, Dead, Lifeless and a bit of a shit hole.4

At the age of 14, you don't expect a description like this. Someone with such love for something so hated. Someone who can smile at a funeral, because she knows that person had a happy, adventurous life. Someone who can look on the bright side of life, but choose to live by the dark side.5

I am at the front gate.6

I am crying. I am sad. I am playing with a piece of rusted wire, that was once located on the fence. I take my first step, treasuring every howl the wind makes, every cricket that chirps. I listen to these noises because the keep me for running, from being sacred of what lies in that house.7

The grass screams under my feet, the concrete footpath cries with every step I take on its weakened cracks. The wind gets angry, because I am blocking its path. Slowly, slowly, slowly I take tiny steps, I am making sure I keep a track of tears on the path. Maybe my soul can follow them out of the house, back to my own room, where next to me lies my mirror friend. She has blood, she has bones, she has emotions and she is not created by a mirror.8

I reach the front door.9

I trace the lines of my tears. I trace the outline of where the door knob should be. I manoeuvre around the door. I am standing in a foyer, I can see dust and blood mixed together on the ground. But I'm not scared, I am not fearful of my life and never shall I. Slowly I slide my feet around a puddle of red crimson, just as I am about to walk away, I kneel down and take a drop of blood. If I die, maybe I can help this person to heaven.10

I won't be going to heaven, but once the devil realises this person shouldn't be here, maybe he'll send this tortured soul back. 11

I am at the base of the stair case.12

There is 22 stairs. That is my guess. 22. That is the day I was born. That is my mirror friends birthday as well. As I walk...1..2..3.. blood drop..4..5..an old gold watch.6..7..a dolls dress.8..9................13

I stop. My heart stops. My feet stop. I am going to throw up. I start to gag and spasm. Staring me straight in the eyes. Is a...
I can't tell you, she will be mad. She moves, her beautiful white face, her black wavy hair, her china blue eyes. Slowly she moves and takes a step onto the 10th. She turns around expecting me to follow, I do. 14

Step 11... her finger starts to crack. Step 12... her arm shatters and falls. Her head slowly turns and I can see something that I could only explain as a tear. 'are you scared?' she whispers with a voice of and angel. 'I am scared of being alone'
She nods then takes the rest of the stairs. I follow her, moving just as she does.15

She leads me to a door. 'I don't want to be alone,' her voice starts to whisper, it swirls around my head. 'I will die from jealousy, I live by materials,' her eyes shatter and crumble onto the floor, 'I have no time for pity, I have no time for love,'
with those last words, she dies. I open the door and step inside. The room is empty, alone. I realise there is a mirror, right in front of me. She is in the mirror, smiling, giggling, running around a swing. I stop crying, and for the first time in my life I genuinely smile. This smile spreads all over my body, it makes me laugh.16

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Do you understand me now? 19

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How about now? 22

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I can tell you what she is now, she said I could. She is me. I am her. We are one. She is my mirror friend, that is created by a mirror. This house is my body, I am dead on the outside but on the inside I have something to smile about, something to live for.