We Used to Live Here

by Marcus Kliewer

“Imagine if several times a day, all at once, every single thing around you became impossible to ignore.”

Of course, a well-adjusted individual would’ve simply told him no. But self-destructive people-pleasing was another of Eve’s plentiful idiosyncrasies. She had a crippling fear of disappointing anyone, even complete strangers—even people she disliked.

Yet, like all totally not haunted houses in the middle of nowhere, it was listed at a killer deal.

An odd symbol had been carved there. A circle, divided by intersecting lines of varying lengths, all meeting in the middle. It looked cryptic, like some kind of ancient glyph.

It’s the mark of a death cult, Mo, the cymbal monkey, chimed in. This family is part of a demonic death cult and they’re coming back here to finish some kind of ritual and—

In times of stress, take mental notes of your environment, your senses. Stay focused on the present moment.

Even when the event was completely out of her control, even when the other party was blatantly overstepping her bounds, she always found a way to blame herself. Always felt this nagging sense of guilt for everything, as if her very existence was a violation of some stone-etched decree.

“Alison believed something in the house, or the house itself, was toying with her. Altering her reality, bit by bit.

When things felt right, it only meant there was so much more that could go wrong.