Chapter 1

when I was young dad and mom and me moved to Idaho, dad was a farmer and found a perfect spot to start fresh. I remember when we drove up tit he house you could see for miles of flat, featureless plains. the house was perfectly perched on the single little hill in all of the surrounding plains, so birds came all the time to rest from their long flights.

the house had a cozy feel to it, you walked in and the kitchen was directly to your left, along side with the living room being to your right. up the stairs was the bathroom and if you took a right was both the bath rooms, my mom and dads was to the left down the hallway and mine was on the right. I hated my room, the entrance to the attic was in my room. I had so many nightmares about something coming down from the attic to come right at me.

But one Night I realized, there was this clear liquid Dripping from the edges of the door to the attic, it looked like water but bubbly. It reminded me of spit, like the kinda my dad always spit out from his chewing tobacco, murky with a slight brown tinge. I went back to sleep, thought I was dreaming but that morning, there it was. A puddle of the same, mucky, brown tinted spit.

one time I was out in the field with my dad, just helping with the farm. I was as bored as I think I possibly could have been so I was just looking all around, and noticed there was appeared to be something peeking from the top of the chimney where all the birds perched and dug their talons into the house. Later that day when we came back for supper and I hadn’t forgotten about the leak on the chimney so I climbed out my window and tried my best to peek over the roof to look at the chimney.

I got a glimpse at it and saw there was this red, viscous liquid dripping from all the holes from the birds and it was flowing down into the gutters, before I could put two and two together. I swear to all that is holy, the house shivered, I lost my footing and fell atleast 12 fee. my parents came rushing out and didn’t feel a thing, except the thud of me falling down onto the wrap around porch.

I think at that point the house knew, the house knew that I knew. That night I heard what sounded like dripping through the whole night coming from my parents room. eventually it was so constant I had to know what was happening, I got out my bed and peeped out my bedroom door and saw the same murky, tobacco tainted spit sealing from underneath my parents room. I burst their door open and there they were, dissolving. The house began to squish my parents room together, wall to wall. All I could do is watch as my parents bed slowly screeched towards the other wall. And then eventually I heard the sound I wished I never would hear, a deafening squish. the kinda sound when you step slowly in fresh mud.

After that I lost it, I ran down stairs into the living room and hid behind the couch. in hind sight the couch didn’t make any sense but to 10 year old me it was the only safe spot in the house. After I hid the house settled, I don’t know why but it stopped, I was so drained from the stress of watching what happened to my parents I just passed out behind the couch. I woke up around sunrise the next day and thought it was all ove. I thought I was safe. I was not, when I stood up I suppose the house felt it and the process began again. I freaked out, I thought last night was a dream and I sleep walked. eventually I got myself together and tried to leave through the front door, but there was no door. the door was gone, and once again I spiraled into a crazed search looking for any window, side door, anything that could get me out the house.

There was no escape, I had to think Like my life depended on it. Than I realized, my dad’s axe was the way out. If the house stole the door from me, I would just make my own. So I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the axe from the pantry, and then I just started to swing and swing and swing. The house began to secrete the same brown, acidic, spit. It started at my feet, than my ankles, than my knees. I could feel the sting and tearing of my body being torn apart my the saliva, then I could hear the furniture begin to screech across the floor again. again I swung, again another thud from the axe hitting the houses flesh, again thud and again thud.

finally I broke through the house chest enough to push through. When I pushed through to house, so did all the blood and saliva from the house. Then I realized the extent of how burned my legs were from the saliva. Someone must have been looking down on me that day because a car drove down the road and saw me, took me to the hospital. That old man in the old ford saved my life.

I still wonder if I told my parents about the first time the house began to digest us, the first time its spit came from the ceiling, would they still be alive. That haunts me to this day.