The Vanishing House

I didn't evaporate through the walls like in all my dreams. My knuckles firmly landed on the wooden board, and I even I was shocked at the sound of it. Even more shocking?

Nothing happened.

It was almost like a huge relief, as if there was nothing special about this house, as if no one lived there and it was, as I had repeated to myself, just a house. I let out a shaky breath and knocked again just to prove to myself that it was an ordinary house. Well. An ordinary, vanishing house. It was a laughable situation, really. Clearly, there was just some sort of strange charm on the place, and it was, literally, a house and nothing else. There was nothing remarkable about it.

Until the door opened.

A boy stood in the door frame. A boy. An actual, living person. As I stood gaping, I changed my mind. He wasn't really a boy. No, he was a young man. And it was when I noticed I was staring that my suspicions surfaced. I couldn't seem to stop looking at him, I thought, at first, maybe he had placed a spell on me. But maybe he was a normal boy? But what if he was evil? What if my worries were just the town's fear talking for me? Why couldn't I seem to be able to speak?

"H-hello," I stuttered. As soon as I thought I wasn't able to speak, it seemed like words couldn't help themselves from protruding from my lips. They leaped out of my mouth like horses hopping fences. "I'm, uh, Nell. Nell from Fairfax. That's, er, the town. Over there. That you, uhm. Sort of. Loom over, I guess. And. I just - wanted - to... Uhm... Inquire about this, uhm, house. And what it was... What it was doing, uhm... Here. I-if you wouldn't, ah, mind."

He opened his mouth to respond, but like a bumbling idiot, I continued my speech with a sort of embarrassing insistence. "For, you see, uh. This, ahm, town. F-fairfax, you know. It, erm. Well. It quite... It, uhm. It, well, it fears you, and... And... And I was, uhm... Just... Wondering what your, uhm, purpose was, you know, being... Uhm, here. Because no one really, uh... Likes it."

We stared at each other. I'm sure I looked stupid, but he looked rather calm about the whole thing, as if he wasn't this freak of nature who liked to torment my home. His eyes were a cool blue, like a dark dawn. They made me nervous - much more nervous than the dumb, old house because the dumb, old house couldn't judge me. His stare was calculating.

"Well, Nell of Fairfax," he finally said, his voice of a slightly higher pitch than I expected, but still pleasant. "I'm sure you and your little... Town are very, very curious about me. But I'd rather not be disturbed. It was a rather bold decision on my front to even let you approach this front door. And it would be my pleasure if you left it. Go. Run along and tell your Fairfax what lies behind these walls. Let the rumors spread and the questions come."

"Your hands are shaking, you don't mean a word of what you speak," I accused, some sort of intrepid force rising up in me ready to attack, like a horned ram ready to charge.

The boy's face gave his emotions away. It creased in all the quizzical places and he looked at his hands.

"So it is," he confirmed. "Hmm. I suppose there's only one thing left to do now."

He stepped aside.

"Do come in."

I was scared. I was scared enough to want to sprint away as fast as possible. I was sure, at that point, that he was some sort of wizard, because young men didn't invite young women into their vanishing homes with such nonchalance. Feet didn't just move on their own accord. Wind didn't push people to creepy, mysterious homes.

Then I remembered the city below us. I remembered that it was even more scared than I was, and that I seemed to be the only one brave enough to put an end to their fear. I remembered naive Denny, going out into the world, trying to chase some silly dream despite impending danger. I remembered that I had to destroy this place, and there was no better opportunity to do so than to converse with The Vanishing House's apparent owner and break down any defenses it had from within.

I stepped over the threshold. The warped, gray floorboards creaked beneath my weight and I peered about. Nothing looked questionable. It was quite small on the inside, despite the openness of the first floor. Modest, old furniture was strewn about in appropriate places. There was a table directly in front of me with a few mismatched, shabby chairs. A rusty, blue-tiled kitchen laid to the left, and to the right was a worn, but comfortable-looking armchair. It was spartan to say the least. I glanced at a staircase next to the kitchen area and wondered if the second floor was just as bare and aged and sad as the first.

"Snooping?" the man asked. "I'm afraid it's not much, and I can't even claim to be unpretentious about it."

I turned around to face him. He had shut the door, meaning it was official: I was trapped. He then took a few steps toward me and revealed his hand.

"I'm Benton Aldebaran," he said. "And as you might be able to tell, I'm cursed."