The Haunting of a Newly Built House.

The Haunting of a Newly Built House.

The paint is fresh, the walls stand proud,

no history carved in wood or stone,

yet something breathes within these halls,

a presence claiming it as home.

No creaking floor of ancient age,

no tale of sorrow left behind,

and still the air grows strangely thick,

as if the house has changed its mind.

The doors will close without a hand,

the windows weep though skies are dry,

and in the dark, a quiet step,

will pass you slowly, standing by.

You search for cracks, for hidden past,

for reasons this could come to be,

but nothing answers, nothing shows,

no past, no trace, no history.

The lights will dim, then burn too bright,

a pulse that matches something near,

and in the mirror, not your face,

but something else is standing there.

No place to hide, no road to run,

for every room will lead you back,

the house itself begins to bend,

its angles shifting into black.

And when you scream, the sound will stay,

absorbed into the waiting walls,

the house was never truly new,

it only waited for your calls.

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