Out!

Maybe I won’t burn down the house tomorrow, I don’t know.

I used to know the way out of here, I think. I don’t think I’ve always lived in this house. But it gets so hard to remember sometimes. So many long hallways, so many doors that squeak, so many kitchens and knives and that oven that would roar if I flipped the heat on.

It’s only me that lives here.

But I’m not the only me that lives here.

I think I came here to visit a friend, back when there were friends. I’m pretty sure I knew the way out when I came through the front door. (Maybe someone’s coming, maybe we won’t be alone forever.) But it’s all gone now, all gone. Just Me and Myself and the voices that whisper sometimes in the night. Or maybe more than that, I’m not sure how many of Us there are in Me.

But one of us wants to burn down the house.

I think it’s the only way to get out of this place. I tell him it’s the only way, I tell him this place is a trap, I tell him you’ve got to get out get out GET OUT…

That’s all silly though, there’s more than one way out of this place. I’m wrong, don’t you see, it’s not a trap, it’s a nice place, a nice house. Everything’s already ready for us and everything. I don’t know where the food comes from, but it’s always there, and the beds are always made and the sheets are always soft, and even if it gets a little lonely (so lonely) we can always find a way out someday, no need to rush things no no need to be rash no no need to burn it down.

I dream sometimes I’m in the belly of a whale and the whale don’t you know the whale spit Jonah out in three days only three days not too long there not so very long only three days I can do that. And maybe it’s dark in the whale and maybe it’s scary and cramped and maybe the house is digesting me day by day till before long there will be nothing left of me and when they find me I’ll only be a few bones lying on the beach or in the nice armchair where I like to sit and read from the dusty books on the shelves.

But really it’s a nice house don’t you know it’s a nice house and it loves me very much so much (run run RUN it’s a trap for the love of God can’t you see IT’S A TRAP!) and the labyrinth of corridors I get lost in every day don’t you see it’s just a joke ha, ha! Just for laughs, is all. Don’t you see that, sillyface?

Maybe I’ll burn down the house tomorrow, I don’t know.

Sometimes I stand in the same place for hours and I think and I wonder what I would do if I didn’t have this nice house to take care of me it’s such a sweet house don’t you see it’s a sweet house very nice not a trap at all, no not a trap. It loves me and I love it and anyway what would I ever do even if I did find my way out I mean there’s a big scary world out there so cruel so scary so dangerous so what would I ever do if I left no it’s much better to stay here stay here stay here where it’s safe.

But I hate it here I hate it so much I just want to stack the books on top of each other and find some oil in the kitchen and light up all those damned dusty books and turn up the oven full blast and burn it and burn it and BURN IT. Don’t you see I’m practically already dead I mean I’m hardly even human anymore already I’m more like a ghost so don’t you see if I burned it all down at least I would know I was real I mean sure it might kill me but WHO CARES because at least for once in this damned life I would feel like something I did made a difference and I had some effect on this house instead of just having it absorb me the way it does the way it always does the way it has to do…

I’m so ungrateful sometimes it really makes me sick I mean this house has done so much for me and all I can think about is how much I want to get out and how much I want to KILL IT and how much I wish I’d never come here in the first place it was a mistake how was I supposed to know it was a trap oh God I’m such an ungrateful bastard.

It’s all my fault. Please tell me it’s not my fault.

… and it wasn’t me I promise I didn’t burn down the house but somehow it caught on fire and I tried to save all the books from the shelves because there’s nothing I hate more than love more than books but I reached onto the shelf after I passed the dry skeleton on the big armchair and I tried to pick up my Holy Bible but it was too heavy I mean I couldn’t get a grip on it and even when I did I couldn’t lift it and I thought what’s going on what have I done what have I become.

So what could I do I mean I ran for it don’t you see I had to run for it it’s not my fault I didn’t do it please believe me I didn’t want this I didn’t want any of this.

…

And I never found a way out. Not a door, not a window, not a hole burned in an outside wall.

It all burned down around me. I swear it wasn’t my fault.

Nothing remains. It’s all ash now, ash and bits of blackened metal. I can see one of the ovens over there to my left.

Nothing but ash.

Nothing but ash and these dried bones before me.