My Phantom's Cottage

The old cottage at the north end of town was notorious among citizens. The way it creaked with the wind and it's shutters swung filled them with curiosity. Of course, no one had ever stepped inside before. No one dared. As mysterious as the cottage appeared, many of the citizens had their own ideas of what was actually inside.

The children claimed that surely it was a witch's lair. The dying trees and humming cicadas waned within her presence. When they played in the north, they were afraid to get too close to the house. Where the grass began to die, the children insisted that anyone who stepped there would immediately turn inside out.

The adults had different theories. Some believed that it belonged to an old woman with a deadly disease. For the good of the town, officials had allegedly locked her up in there, and she had a sustainable source of food. Others believed it was just just an old abandoned narcotics ring and that deviants would go their to trade.

But I knew the truth. And truth was much uglier than any of the rumors.