I went back in time to the house I built, and the house he built. He said we built it together. I knew we built it separately. I went back in time to find reason and validity. I searched for slugs in the cracks of it’s foundation. I found nothing but salt in these wounds, still open and bleeding with the desire to know, “why?”
The house crooned and split and breathed a heavy fog into my lungs. This pressure keeps me here. This energy is dark and hateful. It birthed a monster with ten lives and two heads. One was a jackal. The other, a rawhide. The jackal had teeth that were sharp, but it’s tongue was much sharper. He used it to pierce holes in my back when I had no eyes to see. I still feel the pain. Not as if it was yesterday, but now. The rawhide was weak and had no power. The Jackal fed on it slowly, one lick at a time. The rawhide was once a good man but he was never really good. So his flesh dried up and consumed his bones and made itself a shell for the jackal to live in. I fought the beast daily. I even fought it when it was asleep. I made a mess of this house on purpose for camouflage to disappear in when the fight overwhelmed me. I remember all these things. I remember it all from the whispers in the walls that bind me.
This house is empty now. The beast is gone and I am gone, but the air is still toxic and dense. Breathing it is like breathing air from some distant planet burning up space. I know there is no reason here, no reason to be here. This place is haunted. We died here. The three of us.