Entry #346
What the House Keeps — Entry #346
I can set it down plain now: the house hid the act, kept the witness, and held anyone who came too close to either.
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Entry #346
I can set it down plain now: the house hid the act, kept the witness, and held anyone who came too close to either.
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Entry #345
Death was the admission key; the journal is the work it set me to do.
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Entry #344
I understand now that I was spared so the seeing could go on, so the house would not lose its memory.
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Entry #343
In the afternoon light I found that the oldest work of the house paired hidden sight with kept silence so harm could happen, be witnessed, and continue.
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Entry #342
At the house’s spine, I found the first cut that set the rest and felt where my own mark would be taken.
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Entry #341
I accept that I am dead and that this house keeps what it witnesses, and in that keeping the others remain.
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Entry #340
Tonight the house arranged its small angles until every line I could name leaned toward a single sealed square at the base of the chimney.
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Entry #339
I walked the house and found where choices were fastened into wood and iron, their weight still pressing the air.
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Entry #338
I accept now that the kept line was the function, not the flaw, and I will go down to find what use first needed eyes.
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Entry #337
Tonight the scuffs and notches stopped being accidents and resolved into a line that ran through people.
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Entry #336
The stair gave in a measured way, and a folded leaf with a torn name came up into my hand.
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Entry #335
I noticed the desk had already learned the weight of my wrist.
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