The Vanishing House

Our valley was simple, and the only thing most of us knew. We were familiar with the river that ran through the town, and the train that sprayed soot all over the roofs of the houses on the western border. We knew the slope of The Green like the curve of our mothers' noses. Everything was ordinary and undisturbed.

Until The Vanishing House. In the years that we had to adjust to it, we learned to ignore it. For a long while, it loomed in the distance like a menacing little monster, but really, it was only a little house. I could never understand the worry fully.

Yet, I could understand it to a degree. The Vanishing House was unpredictable. It would disappear for days on end and reappear in a new location. But it never seemed to leave The Green. I almost felt sad for it in a way, like it was bound here, like an animal in a trap. Or even like the townsfolk - condemned to stay in our little, secluded city.

I think the main reason people feared it was because of the mystery it held. It wasn't as though none of us had a sense of adventure or a spark of curiosity. Rather, the prospect of a witch or a wizard inhabiting the home was a little unbearable, only because it was clear that this magical master did not want to be disturbed, what with the constant disappearances. This brought up another point - why, exactly, did the house flicker in and out of the countryside? Why here, of all places?

The fear that adults had for The Vanishing House seeped into their children, which transferred into grandchildren. Instead of being born to admire magic, the youth was learning to fear it. I thought it was sad. Sometimes I just wanted to march up to The Vanishing House and yell at it, scream that it was ruining our love and appreciation for magic. I had these daydreams all the time. I even had normal dreams about The Vanishing House in which I would walk up to it, and evaporate into its walls. It would absorb me, and beyond it's white exterior would be this endless, faint blue light. As soon as I took one step into it, I woke up.

And it was at one of those many moments of waking when my little sister Tania burst into my room, radiating sunshine.

"Nelly!" she squealed, jumping on my bed. "Guess what!"

"What?" I asked groggily.

"Denny says he's going to find The Vanishing House!"

"That's great," I murmured, squinting in the face of a seven o'clock morning and trying to go back to sleep. My sister and brother had wild imaginations. I wasn't surprised at their fearless approach to The Vanishing House - in fact, it was very common for me to hear of their make-believe adventures about what they would do if they attacked The Vanishing House, or how best to open its door.

Long ago rumors had sprung up here and there, none of which were confirmed nor denied. It was said that an evil witch lived there, and she stole farmers' livestock and on occasion children to use in experiments. It was said that King Jarvis himself had ordered the house to be built so he could have a secret laboratory for his royal sorcerer. It was said that the house was a portal to another world.

It was all said, and to my siblings and me, it was seldom believed.

"Yeah," Tania continued. "He took everything he would need to survive like bread and cheese and a hat and he left!"

"Wait," I gasped. "He left?"

A little pang of fear hit me. I threw my quilt aside and ran out of my room with little Tania following. I rushed from our second-floor apartment to my parents' bakery below where they were surely garnishing pastries before we opened the shop.

"Ma!" I screeched. "Pa! Have you seen Denny?"

"No," my mother replied, looked up from the dough she was kneading. "Why? What's wro- oh, honey. Please, it's distasteful to be out and about in your nightgown! You should really cover yourself up, dear."

"Ma, Tania said Denny left to go find The Vanishing House. He left!"

Ma's eyes widened considerably. My fear was that he was going to get lost and injured; her fear was that he was seeking the house. She barked at me to get dressed and go search for him while she ran down to the police's headquarters and get a small party riled up to find him. It was quite unlike my brother to do something so careless. We were a spirited bunch, I knew, and it was pretty hard for Ma and Pa to keep track of us sometimes, but we had never done anything so rash.

I tried to focus despite the panic that filled me. I reasoned that he couldn't have gotten very far, and that, if anything, some kind soul would find him and return him to our house. I scoured the streets, screaming his name until my voice became hoarse. I had been walking for almost an hour before I spotted him, up on The Green, inching ever closer to The Vanishing House.

I sprinted towards him, not caring that it wasn't very ladylike, not caring that my dress was probably making me look something short of improper.

"Denny!" I yelled, my throat aching with a curious mixture of fire and ice. "Denny! Dennis!"

I wasn't anywhere near him, but I continued to shout. I didn't focus on the uphill journey that The Green presented me, or my lungs slowly dissolving under pressure. The wind was drowning my voice out in gusting waves, and my brother didn't hear me until I was practically upon him.

"Oompf!" he groaned when I grabbed him up in my tired arms and collapsed on the grass.

"Denny!" I bellowed. "Denny, don't you ever run away from home like that ever again! Do you hear me? Ever! Denny, are you listening?"

"I wasn't running away!" he retorted. "I was trying to get to The Vanishing House!"

He was clearly mad, glaring at me from his gold-hued eyes. But I didn't care. My siblings had become something of my little responsibilities, and I didn't want anything to harm them. I had been so frightened that Denny might hurt himself, or get kidnapped, or get lost, or be hungry, or even die, for all it was worth.

I turned around to The Vanishing House and cursed it. I cursed it for making my brother so impulsive and making my hometown quake in its boots. I cursed it for being so alluring and dangerous and creating so much unnecessary drama, fear, and ruckus. Something had to be done to remove the nuisance from our otherwise idyllic lives.

That was the day I decided I would destroy The Vanishing House.