House Of Sighs

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The children were here again. She sighed. It was a long, long time since children had played here. She prayed that these little ones would stay around a little longer than the last ones, and do something other than stare. She would love for them to come inside, but she figured that their parents and friends had probably warned them against that. Too dangerous, their parents would have said. Too scary, their friends would have said.

She looked at the pair more closely. Brother and sister, she thought. Doesn't look like they've bought anything to play with. She wondered if the was a ball around anyway. The children that lived here long ago had a ball. Perhaps it was in the basement. No, in the attic. Yes, that is where it is. She searched quickly and found an old red ball covered with dust. She managed to roll it up to the window, and then with a Herculean effort, lifted it and let it fall. It bounced once on the ground then rolled towards the children.

She had hoped they would pick it up and start throwing it about. Instead, they screamed as though all the demons of hell were after them. She sighed. She had a bad reputation. She knew that.

It was so unfair. It wasn't her fault that a monster had lived here. A man who had lured young 'uns into the basement and done horrendous things. She had tried to stop him but to no avail. There had been little she could do, being but timber and stone.

She sighed again, and a shiver ran through her. Then she felt something she had not felt for a very long time, the touch of a little hand, full of curiosity and innocence. It was the little girl, come back to visit her.

"Hello," said the girl. "Hello, old house?"

The house pulled herself upright, ready to greet this wonderful stranger.

"Hello, little girl," she said, but all the girl heard was the creaking of timber and a sound like wind through a broken heart.

Inspired by a prompt from Jill Badonsky in The Muse Is IN Writing Club.