It all began when someone left the window open…

Prologue

It really began one cold day in November as I was riding my bike home from school. Ever since kindergarten I've ridden my bike to school and back, at the same time, on the same streets. But on this particular day, something was quite different.

You see, I was heading down Pine Street, then left onto Oak, and was about to turn on my own street when I saw something strange out of the corner of my eye. I almost wrecked when I instinctively turned my head to see what had just flashed by. As I caught my balance, I turned the bike around and realized it was a house. A house? I thought as I slowly started to pedal back down the street. There are no houses on Oak Street. But sure enough, there it stood. A rustic, old wooden house, about three stories high. It had these wide-paned old fashioned windows, and only one was opened. Why would anyone have a window open when it's snowing? I watched the long navy blue curtains flow in and out of the window with the breeze.

I turned my head for a moment to see an old car rumble down Pine. When I turned back to the house, the window was shut, just like the rest of them. Something wasn't right here, and I knew it.

I swallowed and realized my mouth was agape. I shut it and started to pedal home. There was never a house on Oak Street, I continued to think, looking back a second time and as I turned onto Redwood, Never.