1
I X all the friends
who come to my house after that.
They were all eaten by the house.
But it wasn't enough.
To begin with, I found children around my age and invited them in. They were all deceived by the sweet smell of food and my smile. All of these children were hungry. And on top of that, pure. They wanted to believe in a dream, that happiness would come upon them alone. Though such a thing would never conveniently appear before them, their childish hearts easily accepted the comforting allure. Just the way I had.
The house itself used what it knew to kill my friends with ease, and it did so in a variety of ways. I didn't need to do anything. Only reach out an inviting hand. Crushing them between the walls was the simplest way. From time to time a lucky child would escape and run down the hall, but a knife from nowhere would quickly take care of them. The house had always had such traps in place. Because this was a witch's house. A house created by demons to devour humans. It was no surprise at all that it would be filled with deadly implements.
Every time the house ate a person, it voiced its gratitude - thank you, thank you - and I was embarrassed of my past self for failing to carry out my job as a witch.
Regret? Guilt? I felt no such things. Because I wanted to be cured. Because I wanted someone who would love me. By merely piling up the pebbles before me, I could have my wishes granted. Anyone given that offer would have chosen the same. I picked them up, and I stacked. Yet they weren't pebbles, but white bones. People's round skulls. Perhaps the big question was whether these were on the level of pebbles, or if they had indeed been a person's life.
Human souls, for now, were currency. Money with which a witch can buy spells from a demon. Just as I exchanged the souls of father and mother for the spell of this house, I needed more souls to receive things from the demon. I had to continue working not only for the cure the demon promised, but for medicine to slow the progression of my sickness. When I stepped outside that day, I saw my fingertips splotched with red. Even though there had never been symptoms of my sickness there before. It was because I had stopped drinking my medicine since I came here. I trembled with fear. I didn't want it to get any worse. I clung to the demon's medicines. Even if I didn't know how much they helped to slow it.
When the house ate a person, my body flushed up with heat, and I
felt the soul being taken to the demon. I didn't know any exact numbers, but I was recompensed for feeding him humans. With medicine to slow my sickness, for the time being. The remainder, so to speak, went toward offerings to the demon to grant my wish.
"Not really an offering. 's just a transaction." I turned to the thick voice, and a black crow settled on the open window's sill. "Heya," the crow greeted, flapping open its wings. I looked at him with arms folded and a look of disgust. "Just leave the medicine and go." "Ooo, scary. Kid's got no respect, no respect. Hey, what's with you?", the crow spat at the black cat down on the floor. "Sheesh. I'd advise against trying to make her angry," he angrily replied, but he made no implication that the crow was a nuisance. It felt as if the cat and the crow were long-time acquaintances. "I heard ya. Good doin' business. Smell ya!" The crow flapped his wings a few times, then took off from the window. I shut it firmly with irritation. Though I needed not touch it directly; the things of this house moved as I willed. "You don't like him?" "Nope. He's just so noisy," I coldly said. The cat scratched his nose with a sigh.
I bought my medicine from another demon, distinct from the black cat. I just called him the crow demon.
