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LAST NIGHT THE house took my wife.
For weeks I could hear it getting louder. Its hunger growing to the point of obsession.
feed me. Feed Me. FEED ME.
An infant crying out for milk. A god demanding sacrifice. The incessant need that only I could hear.
I kept it at bay for a while. Feeding it insects I’d snatched from unswept corners. Rats from our attic. The cat from next door. But the house wanted more. It wanted blood.
I tried to satisfy its needs with my own crimson ichor. Small incisions along my arms wrung directly into the basement drain. I think that’s where it lived. The source of its power. A voice echoing up from the bottomless sewer underneath our home.
At night it would creep upstairs. Just as I was on the cusp of sleep that raspy baritone would find me, drench me in sweat and rattle me to my core.
feed me. Feed Me. FEED ME.
BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.
I could feel the walls swell and compress as if lined with functioning lungs. Windows rattled and floorboards creaked. The house threatened to collapse around us if I didn’t submit to its insatiable needs.
I tried to move. Run away and foist our cursed dwelling on some unsuspecting buyers. But the house knew and conspired against me. Its evil seeped out into the world, scheming to have me fired from my job. To have our investments suddenly plummet. To push our finances to the brink of collapse, leaving us with no option but to remain within its sadistic clutches.
I didn’t want to give it my wife. The house was my burden and mine alone. As far as I knew it never spoke to her or even made its callous presence known. But the more I bargained the more obvious the house made its requirements.
feed me. Feed me. FEED ME.
HER. HER. HER.
I thought about explaining the situation. But I knew the house would find out and make things worse.
And so instead we drank a cocktail. Shared a nice meal. I put on a brave face and hid the fact that our makeshift date night was actually a farewell. Later we made love and as she slipped off to sleep under the pale moonlight, I bashed her head in with a hammer.
I dragged her down the stairs. Her body thump-thumped-thumped with each step. I could feel the house getting excited around me. The walls quivered with anticipation. The windows and bannisters practically salivating.
When we reached the basement, I hauled her limply over to the waiting drain. One quick slice across the neck and the house was satisfied. It slurped and gurgled. Revelling in dominance and satisfaction.
I wept in anguish and relief. I listened as the house gorged itself on my beloved.
And I wondered how long until it demanded another sacrifice.
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