all here to discuss the fate
Sep. 9th, 2014 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeeandscreamThere's no doubt the murderhouse is haunted. Far from a rumbling, the place had fallen into terrible fact, and fact came strolling in with vandalism, disrepair, and condemnation ages ago. Seventy years, she's been in this place, and it only took twenty for the federal officials to make up some bullshit administrative reason to tape the place off. Since then, she's seen on yearly wanderings out, the neighborhood has gone bad. The rot began in her house and spread malignantly down the street, across the electrical wires, blacking out homes and dreams and businesses along the way. Twenty-five years into her tenure, she had to start walking at sunrise Halloween morning to even catch a car to hitchhike her out to anywhere like civilization.
No new owners in the house meant no connection outside. No wi-fi, no cell service, no kids delivering paper. The years have gotten harder and harder to keep track of. Something happened to the sky some years back; it never clears anymore. The house is always cold, unless some resident forgets where they are, forgets they're years long dead and imagines the place like it was when they moved in all those summers ago. There haven't been new residents in a long time. There haven't been new neighbors lately either. Violet shoplifted a crank radio from a mall sometime back, but no matter where she twists the antenna, there's no signal.
Maybe the world is dying. Maybe just California. Maybe something is finally taking the house, but it seems like this house is the only thing that's staying the same.
Violet Harmon isn't afraid of anything. When her mother points out the man lingering at their front gate, hovering in their lawn, she sounds apprehensive. It's odd. No one's been here for years. Nobody in this house is in the mood to chase anyone away either. (It's a lie; the other's are just as restless any given day as Vivian is lethargic now, sitting in the clean kitchen with her baby asleep on her chest.) Do we need someone to chase him away? But Violet is short on apprehension; he doesn't need to be chased away. Keep the others at bay--I'll talk to him, whoever he is.
So fearlessly, she bangs out onto the front steps, eying what can only be a guest skeptically. "Y'know, the whole home invasion things works a hell of a lot better if you come at night."
No new owners in the house meant no connection outside. No wi-fi, no cell service, no kids delivering paper. The years have gotten harder and harder to keep track of. Something happened to the sky some years back; it never clears anymore. The house is always cold, unless some resident forgets where they are, forgets they're years long dead and imagines the place like it was when they moved in all those summers ago. There haven't been new residents in a long time. There haven't been new neighbors lately either. Violet shoplifted a crank radio from a mall sometime back, but no matter where she twists the antenna, there's no signal.
Maybe the world is dying. Maybe just California. Maybe something is finally taking the house, but it seems like this house is the only thing that's staying the same.
Violet Harmon isn't afraid of anything. When her mother points out the man lingering at their front gate, hovering in their lawn, she sounds apprehensive. It's odd. No one's been here for years. Nobody in this house is in the mood to chase anyone away either. (It's a lie; the other's are just as restless any given day as Vivian is lethargic now, sitting in the clean kitchen with her baby asleep on her chest.) Do we need someone to chase him away? But Violet is short on apprehension; he doesn't need to be chased away. Keep the others at bay--I'll talk to him, whoever he is.
So fearlessly, she bangs out onto the front steps, eying what can only be a guest skeptically. "Y'know, the whole home invasion things works a hell of a lot better if you come at night."
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Date: 2014-09-12 02:03 am (UTC)