I was a house.
I was new and clean, my foundation strong and foreign to the small hill I had made mine. The sunlight trickled right over me, my roof sparkling in its soft rays.
I was happy.
Until, one day, a wolf came knocking at my door. I opened it wide, smiling at him. I invited him in, not noticing how the sunlight seemed to die just where he walked.
He started to lie, to play games and change who I was. He rearranged my home to his own liking.
He began to destroy it, to destroy me, bit by bit. He always glued all the pieces back together straight afterwards, and I was content to pretend that being a mosaic was just fine.
But then I started to notice things.
The sun no longer resided over me. My home lay under a ceaseless cloudy gloom; the flowers that had sprung up outside before in multitude were withered and dead. I started to see the hideous cracks scarring the walls and the floors and the doors and me.
I screamed, and at the shrill sound of my realization, everything the wolf had broken within my once happy home came tumbling down, just on the inside, for none to see.
He ran out the door with his hands over his ears, a smirk written across his visage. I locked the door behind him and mourned my loss.
I couldn’t fix the destruction on my own, so I called to a friend, one who I knew would help me rebuild my treasured home.
She’d just escaped from her own wolf, a twisted, bitter creature who had attached himself to her for so so long.
We’d rejoiced when she’d finally slipped out of his fangs.
She arrived at my call, and I showed her every single room, every broken and bitter thing, minding that she watched her step. Sharp shards of my belongings were haphazardly scattered about, after all. I stared at her strangely as she picked through them and scooped up a few pieces, zipping them away into her bag. She didn’t notice that I noticed. I said nothing. We kept walking.
I told her how I struggled as I attempted to repair that which I couldn’t and shouldn’t, ignoring what reconstruction should have been made first. I told her how I continued to destroy what little was left in this home, my heart.
I gave her the key to my most secret, twisted, painfully destroyed room. The one I thought only she could help me fix. The one I entrusted only her with. She smiled sweetly as she gracefully stepped over the fractures of me, telling me all of it could be repaired in a short, short time that was so unreasonably soon in my mind that I never really believed her. I nodded along anyway, but I started to feel strange around her. Doubt nipped at the corners of every room. Was she really here to help me? I questioned her as I began to sort through my chaos, and she smiled once more.
“Of course,” she soothed.
I was silent.
The next day I stepped inside of my home and I could not find her.
I ran and searched through all my suddenly empty hallways and rooms and thoughts frantically, while the building moaned and wailed at my steps.
The windows rattled and screeched, the tattered curtains whipping up and around them, hissing like frightened snakes.
My frenzied search had been unsuccessful. Where was she?
I at last stood breathless before the final room. The most secret, broken one, the one only she and I held the key to.
I did not hesitate.
I threw open the door.
She was there.
But she wasn’t alone.
She was turned away from me,
Hand with
The wolf.
I screamed.
They startled.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
He merely smiled. She seemed annoyed.
“Do you mind?” She dismissed me with one hand.
I shook with a hurricane of unidentifiable emotions.
“How could you be in here? Like this?” My voice cracked. It sounded like a dying wind.
“What? Are you trying to take this away from me? You know I need this.” She said, her eyes and voice full of bitter venom.
I was stunned.
“I thought you were here to fix…me…”
She stared at me like I was as stupid as I felt.
“Your repairs are done. Haven’t you seen them?”
I shook my head.
“No, they aren’t. Everything is just…empty.”
But she’d turned around again, laughing and laughing and laughing with the wolf.
The wolf that was no longer mine.
She didn’t notice the way his eyes glittered just like his eager fangs.
I called out to her
And again
But she didn’t turn around
And he leaned in closer
Sharpened his teeth as she
I couldn’t watch.
I left.
I stepped out of my secret, special, broken room, which was somehow no longer mine.
The house began to tremble.
I fell to my hands and knees, silently watching my tears make puddles on the cold, bare, floor, as my empty home began to collapse, all around me.
For its foundation had finally crumbled,
And I,

Wow! Thank you for one hundred followers! I’ve been here for about three months now, and it’s been a great experience. Thank you for reading my writing, leaving your comments, and following my page! I am honored by your presence!

-Megan M. Phillips


6 thoughts on “Condemned

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