The Vanishing House

"I can also tell you're not so forward," I said, eyeing his hand warily. "How long have you been rehearsing this meeting?"

Benton's appearance changed entirely. His confident personality melted away as he put down his hand, and it wasn't hard to tell that he was much more of a scared little boy than a brave young man. I couldn't tell you how my heart continued to work during this whole exchange of words. It was moving so furiously I thought for sure there were sparks coming out of my fingertips. The way Benton looked at me was sort of like that, like I was some sort of odd sea creature that should only be examined with a stick.

"You, er...," he began, an arm nervously slithering towards his neck. "You're, uhm..."

He didn't complete his sentence, and he didn't need to. He had the heart of a boy, it seemed. He was so easy to read, I began to feel nervous for him, like he was some younger sibling I should look out for. But then my sensibility came rushing back like a fierce wave. He was evil despite his innocent appearance, I was sure of it. Even if he had said he was cursed, this could all have been some sort of illusion. All I had to do was blink and everything could have changed, like when a painter blemishes canvas, or a poet adjusts his commas. It was all so confusing, like a battle between the brain and the heart. I didn't know if he was telling me truths, if he was lying, or if my mind was just diluted by the rumors I had heard all my life.

"Benton Aldebaran," I said, testing his name out on my tongue. "I think... I should ask you what you're doing here, and why you let me into this place."

I looked him straight in the eyes. They still made me nervous, but if he maintained eye contact, I thought I would be able to trust him, or at least trust his words. But what if he looked away? Would that make him a liar, or just shy? It seemed like his life was as bare as the house, like he had had no human contact in years. It was as if he had grown up in the house all alone, and I feared I was correct. If he didn't know how to act in a manner that was socially accepted, where was I then?

"It's a long story," he started. "I hardly know where to, uhm, begin. I guess I haven't exactly had opportunities to tell my tale."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice cracking with uncertainty. He picked at the hem of his ratty brown shirt, looking down at his dirty, lanky feet.

"Then how about you start with why I'm here?"

His head raised slowly, but he couldn't meet my eyes immediately. He glanced here and there, like his eyes were having a spastic fit.

"I think you can help me," he replied.

"How?"

"Your magic works. I think you can use it to break this curse on me. That's why I let you in here."

I gazed at him as if he had seven heads. I was Nell, resident of Fairfax, future owner of a bakery, and quite possibly the best big sister in the world. I was not magical, not in the slightest. I certainly couldn't perform magic. Nothing I did was particularly miraculous. I was plain. I was ordinary. I knew who I was, and that was not some sort of magic user.

When he talked, Benton's eyes flitted about the room, like he was seeing a million flecks of stardust and wanted to memorize them all. But when he next spoke, his fierce irises settled on me.

"I can see magic. I was never very good at anything else. But I can see it, and I take small pride in my ability, however meaningless it may be. It's rare that, down there in that town, there is ever even a glimmer of magic. I fear that it might be my fault. We all have a little bit of magic, but sometimes if you don't believe in it, it can disappear. And believe me, I know quite a bit about disappearing. The children sparkle like water when they're young and still have something beautiful within them. But you, Nell of Fairfax... You're like the moon."

This was his form of pleading. I still thought him to be full of falsity and folly; he had years to prepare such a performance. But I realized this was my golden opportunity. If I could break his "curse", then I could bargain with him. I could get him to leave.

"I want to breathe life into my town again," I said. "I want the people to dance and laugh and love a little harder than they have in these years. And I fear that the only way to do that is to get you to leave this place. So I shall make a deal with you. If I break your curse, will you leave? Permanently?"

"Yes," he responded almost immediately. I felt like that was some sort of proof - his eagerness proved his ingenuity.

"How do I break it?"

His eyes began to wander again, and with a sinking sense of hopelessness, I knew what he would say. He didn't know. Feeling faint, I slumped into on of the chairs encircling the uneven table.

"Can you... Can you tell me anything? Any hints?"

Benton rubbed a hand against his mouth, contemplating. The air was undisturbed, basking in our silence. I could hear all the sounds of the house, from the moaning walls to the rattling, wind-shaken glass.

"I think if I tell you of my past you can figure it out," he finally concluded.

"Now?" I asked. I was growing increasingly watchful of the sunset, fearing my return trip home. "For, you see, I should go back home. Only... I don't really know how. Or how to get back here, for that matter. A mild dilemma."

"Jump out your window tomorrow at noon," Benton said.

"What? Are you a lunatic? What are you - "

My sentence was cut off as Benton approached me. He laid his hands on my shoulders and closed his eyes. My stomach tightened and my nervousness came rushing back, like a breaking dam. I squeezed my eyes shut in a moment of panic and when I opened them, I was standing in front of the bakery. I looked around, startled, and lost my balance. Grabbing a hold of the nearest wall, I blinked repeatedly.

It was then that I realized the town did indeed have something to fear in The Vanishing House.