This House Will Never Be A Home.
It was just a building. Four strong walls keeping things in and keep others out.
Deadlocked at the door for good reasons.
All but two windows at the front kept their blinds shut and the light from the outside world was always dimmed.
There was never anything to suggest anyone was there.
Many loved the outside, even with its rough paint job and offensive nature. There was just something that attracted people to it, even if it's structures were built to defect.
But something lived deep inside, something few people ever saw. Some had heard legend of it but had never dared to glimpse. Some had braved the barbed wire fence and came to the door, only to be pushed away by their fear of what lay inside.
There were things lying inside, as if somebody had once lived within the stronghold. Distant memories of a past life were thrown carelessly around the rooms, as though they had once meant something but now not mattered.
There sat a safe in the middle of the messy rooms, always locked with a thick chain and nobody had ever seen what treasures -- nay, terrors are held within.
If one were to look closely, one would find that the locks binding the front and only door to the house were once tampered with - the ones covered with heavy chains and kept under guard. One would notice that these weak locks had been the only guard to the house but now they were tiny compared to the fences and the heavy chains and even the stigma that surrounded this tiny building.
Even as one walked past, a chill was sent down one's spine; a raw fear that the smallest of things – even just walking by – would get them hurt.
And some were.
There are some who simply observe this building and notice when things change; when the storms pass through the open windows and the tiny drops of precipitation would seep inside, leaving the house a little worse than it was before.
Those who observe have observed for long periods of time – leaving when they felt it was their due time - and there were some who saw more in small instances than those who have watched for years.
There are very few who know that those gates were once open and someone was let inside; only let out some years later, looking as if they had been trapped.
They never spoke of what was inside and it stayed with them forever – as if it were a curse.
No one could ever see what truly lay inside this house – no matter how they tried.
It would always be a building.
Always a house.
Never a home.