The house I live in is so old that when the wind is strong enough, it creeks
Creek's not the right word, but then again I've never been able to describe it.
As a kid, the sound frightened me, I thought the house would just collapse at any given moment.
I've noticed that over the years it takes less and less for it to whine,
what was once a wind storm, is now a mere gust.
The walls are slowly splitting and separating, in every corner of every room there is a crack.
I, in terms of biology, am not old.
However, when I breathe deep enough, my chest creeks.
Creek's not the right word, but then again I've never been able to describe it.
As a kid, when my body would ache, my mom would reassure me by telling me that they were just growing pains, she would praise me on this, say that I'm going to be tall, that it runs in the family.
Now when my body aches, it’s because I haven't got out of bed in days- it's because I can't remember when the last time I saw the sun was; she tells me that this too runs in the family.
My house is haunted, and it's not the wind.