No one in town ever spoke about the house at the end of Willow Street unless they were certain the children were out of earshot, because the house had developed a reputation that was neither frightening nor welcoming but something far more unsettling, a presence that lingered in conversation like an unfinished sentence, its tall narrow windows reflecting the sky in a way that made it seem constantly watchful, as though it had been waiting for years without ever revealing what it expected.
No one in town ever spoke about the house at the end of Willow Street unless they were certain the children were out of earshot, because the house had developed a reputation that was neither frightening nor welcoming but something far more unsettling, a presence that lingered in conversation like...