#13 Shadow House
Nestled in the countryside hidden by the trees, Shadows fill a lonely house not a man has seen. It was a local legend. Everyone knew the poem. We said it as a ghost story at flashlight lit sleepovers. Our parents used it as a warning against staying out late. Their parents skipped rope to the rhythm of its words. No one knew where it came from, but everyone had it etched in their bones. For me it had always felt like it was etched into my heart, embedded into my core. Every one of my school notebooks had it scrawled into the margins. The words would be rearranged and upside down as if the different configurations would reveal some hidden meaning. Like I would find an answer to all the questions in my life. I clung to that poem believing that I would find everything I needed if I found the house nestled in the trees. Other children did the same for fun. For them it was a phase, but I searched obsessively for it well after they had stopped. College had dulled to obsession to a...