That was the first thing they told me when I moved in: “We know you’ve probably heard the rumors. We know how people around here talk. The thing is, this house isn’t haunted.”
Sometimes I light this place up like a church. Candles on every surface.
You shouldn’t trust flames in your sleep but I do. I’ve always known I won’t die that way.
Or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I’m tempting fate. Or seeking destruction through apathy.
The candles burn and I dream of fire.
Of rising from the ashes of who I was into a better world (a not-broken life).
I wake, unburned, and disappointed.
The flashing lights were a sign of intelligence, some kind of signal. Obviously.
You should always be less concerned about the apocalypse than you are about the people who are waiting for the apocalypse.
Those are the people you need to watch out for.
You’ll be able to recognize them easily. When it happens, they’ll be the ones breaking glass and burning things. Remember: They’ve been waiting for this.
But it didn’t happen yesterday. The doomsday prophets were wrong again.