Searching for the Outside
Willi steps away from the window, folding her arms and tilting her head. She sees people do this all the time when they’re thinking, and she always thought it was silly, because wouldn’t tilting your head cause the thoughts to fall out? But she figured she’d give it a try this time, as she absolutely cannot fathom how the whole outside could be missing.
It doesn’t work, however. She folds her arms, tilts her head, and even taps her foot, but she can’t think of a reason why it’s so dark out there. None of her books prepared her for it, fiction or otherwise. Her geography lessons with Mother didn’t cover it. The Christian Bible may have an explanation. According to it, the world started in total darkness before God created Earth and life. Perhaps He grew tiresome of His creation and wanted to start afresh with a new slate.
But if that’s the case, there is a new question. Why does Willi and her house remain?
Perhaps she will call Mother and Father. They know everything, after all. Assuming they are still in a state of existence.
Willi opens her door and peeks out. There’s still a hallway, there’s still a lamp, glowing its dim, yellow light. There’s still portraits on the wall with Willi and her family. And, at the end of the hall, there is the living room where the house phone is next to the couch.
Willi steps out, her bare feet scraping against the wooden floor. Just as she steps into the hall, there is a crashing sound behind her. Odd. She should be the only living thing in this house. Could something have fallen?
She turns towards the noise and her eyes widen.
For some reason, there is another living thing here, but it’s not like anything Willi has ever seen. It’s tall and furry, looking similar to the yetis she’s read about in books, but this creature has no arms. Just a head, body, and legs. Willi doesn’t even clearly see a face.
The creature seemed to have stumbled over a table and fell into the wall. It picks itself up, shaking its head about. Then it rushes in Willi’s direction.
Willi freezes, trying to decide if this is real or not. Surely there isn’t actually something inhuman running towards her? She realizes too late that she should move out of the way and the creature crashes right into her.
Both, her and the creature, fall to the ground. The creature picks itself up again, shakes its head, and goes off running, not even sparing Willi a minute.
Willi sits up, stretching her back. Well, it had to be real. She’s in enough pain for it to be real. But why is it in her house? It can’t be a monster. It didn’t try to eat her, and monsters like to eat children.
Is it the reason why the outside is gone? Did it steal it? Or eat it?
Willi stands, wincing as she does. Her back really hurts. Is this what it’s like to be Father every day? She should call him and ask, and while she’s at it, ask about the monster too. He’ll know. She’d rather ask Mother, as Mother is likely to know more (Mother tends to know about these kinds of things), but she’s busy giving birth to a stupid baby, so Father will have to do.
She steps into the living room, looking for the creature. She doesn’t see it; either it has moved on already or it has disappeared completely.
What she does see, however, is not anymore comforting.
Right above the fireplace, there is something big and black stuck to the wall and ceiling. It almost looks like something caught in a spider web, but it’s dark goo instead of pale silk.
Willi steps closer, staring at it, reaching her hand out as high as she can to touch. She’s not tall enough. She bends her knees, preparing to jump.
“I would advise not doing that.”
Instead of jumping, Willi stumbles back, her eyes widening even more. She stares at the black web goo, searching for body parts or a mouth, but she sees none.
“Did you speak?” she asks.
“No, I advised,” the voice says. “Don’t touch me. It’s not pleasant for either of us.”
“What are you?” Willi asks. “Are you a monster?”
“Would a monster give you advice?”
“I suppose not.”
“Then I suppose I’m not a monster.”
“What are you then? And where is the outside?”
A gurgling sound is heard and the goo web bubbles. “The outside is still there.”
“No, it’s not,” Willi corrects. “There’s no snow or houses or streets or rabbits. There’s nothing.”
“Well, of course not. Those things aren’t there anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I took the house away.”
Willi’s eyebrows raise at that. So it was the house that had moved, not the outside.
“Why did you take the house away?” Willi asks.
“You asked me what I am. I am a house thief. I needed it.”
“For what?”
“For food.”
Willi nods knowingly. “All right. So if I go into the kitchen and bring you food, will you put the house back?”
“You misunderstand. I cannot eat that food. I can only eat the house.”
“The house!” Willi’s voice raises. “You can’t eat the house!”
“Why not?”
“I live here!”
“Impossible. The house was empty when I took it.”
“But it’s not empty. Look!” Willi points all around the room. “This is our furniture. That’s a picture of me and my family. That’s something my mother and father painted together. And here!” She gestures to herself. “I’m here, right now! Because I live here!”
The House Thief gurgles and bubbles. “I have no proof that it is you who lives here.”
“I’m in that picture.”
“That’s not you. That thing is small and like a bean.”
“I was a baby then.”
“How convenient.”
Willi puts her hands on her hips, pouting. “Can’t you just put this one back and take a different house? One that is actually empty?”
“Why should I when I already have this one?”
“Because I live here!” Willi collapses to the floor, trying to decide if she should cry or not. She knows that she’s a child, which is almost a teenager, which is almost an adult, and adults don’t cry, but she really feels like crying right now.
What will happen to Willi when the house is eaten? Will she’ll be eaten too? Will she have to go outside, in the deep dark, and be lost forever?
“Listen, Little One,” the House Thief says. “As I said, I have no proof that you live here. But if you can find me proof, I may reconsider.”
Willi lifts her head up, wiping away the tears that dared to sting her eyes.
“Okay,” she says as she stands up. “Okay. I’ll go and find proof that I live here. And you’ll put the house back?”
“I will,” the House Thief says.
“Okay. Okay!” With new hope welling up in her, Willi turns and rushes out of the room to find proof that she lives here.
As soon as she exits the living room, however, she quickly realizes that she has no idea what can count as proof or not.
Thank you for reading!
