The house welcomes.
It creaks.
It sighs.
The front door drifts open.
We step inside.
Gargoyles stand sentinel
on the staircase.
Their eyes follow our path
past the flickering candles.
An icy wind brushes our skin
with unseen fingers.
Shadows move and sway
in the dark hallway.
The front door locks behind us.
End House has spoken.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
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