The incessant barking of a hound echoed out across the valley, and into the mountains. The valley was filled with the colors of an iron fall, and the dark colors of the climbing evergreens were stippled against the mountains, purple and orange in the receding light. A smooth, glassy lake was laid out in the valley as if it were the last drops of some leftover beverage. The call of the hound continued its maddening echo, and seemed to stir a wind, which dove down, and slapped the leaves of the trees. The wind moaned and whistled through the creaking, swaying branches, and the hound stopped its call.

The forest shivered as the sunset grew black, and the eerie glow of the moon shone from above. The star-splattered sky grew dark, and heavy as the wind began to moan once more. The wind blew through the trees, underneath the leaves, into the forest, and through the shrubbery. It followed its ghostly path until it had found itself and eerie resident. It was an old mansion, draped in moss, and encroached in dark growth. Vines slithered up its columns, and through the old shutters in the windows. It lay still, and black, except for the slight scream of the wind, and the variety of creaking and groaning which it produced. Unseen doors swayed on their century-old hinges, banging shut, and clattering open again.

The wind blew past the front door of the mysterious house, and the lock rattled violently, giving way, and tumbling from its rusted outline. It fell to the floor, and the wooden planks gave a hollow thunk, as it fell straight down. The porch rattled, and an ancient, ruined rocking chair rocked to and fro. Back…and forth…back…and forth…back…and forth. Creak…creak…creak.

The wind suddenly seemed to rupture, and it exploded through the house, jolting the shutters, and banging the doors. It forced its way through the many cracks and slits, and…the house, it began to scream.

As the screaming began, the wind became instantly still, and the screams were allowed to echo out into the bereft valley, up the sides of the mountains, and pivoting from the tips in a resounding echo. The howl of the hound took up again, fearful of the screams which haunted its mind. Then the house heard the howl as it came to echo against it. It gave a sharp CRACK!, and the howl broke.

Suddenly the house began to moan as the porch slumped into the dirt. The house had broken a column, and it fell, and rolled up against the porch. The shingles skittered down, and showered upon the yard as termites fell plentiful from the sky. The panels of the floor sunk, and bent into hazardous shapes and curvatures. The old rocking chair shattered as a beam fell heavily upon it, and the porch suddenly released itself into a termite-ridden avalanche of wood. Dust rose into the night air, and the wind blew it into and opaque cloud. The screams began again as the house thundered and roared.

Suddenly, it grew still. The house lay silent, and dead. The cloud of dust floated silently on the air like stray feathers. The termites no longer fell, and the shingles and the wood lay unnaturally silent. The screams were not even whispers, and the wind left the air stagnant. The shutters and doors didn’t slam, and the house lay hushed in the dark moonlight. The hound, far of in the distance mad not a single sound. It didn’t howl, bark, yelp, or whine. Not even a growl or a snarl against the dark predator of the night. Nothing. The entire valley lay absolutely still in the dark hours of night.

The dust fell, and the house remained still. It was in complete disarray from the damaged porch. But a whisper pierced the silence. It spoke in an unknown language, seemingly chanting an eerie spell. Then the wind, the souls of the wind shivered, answering the whisper with a dark, low voice. The hound moaned, and a light shone, somewhere in the dark house. A shadow passed over, and the screams sounded somewhere at the vanishing point, in the distance.