The House Around The Corner

• Tahlia Selleck, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2013

When the bus doors opened by the house around the corner I knew I wouldn’t be alone on the journey to school. A swish of dark hair and a crooked smile announced her arrival. With a confident walk, the empty space next to me would be filled.

Several times each week her eyes would spark like fireworks and her grin would stretch from one side of the bus to the other. Straight away I would know she had a story to tell me, a book-long story of her relationship status and all the exciting innuendo hidden behind every Facebook message. Though her tales lacked diversity I somehow kept listening. Hearing her talk was like turning on a drama show full of meaningless rubbish that left you addicted afterwards.

People far and wide crowded around to hear her stories. With every word she coated an invisible layer of secrets. Her life was so fascinating, so full of thrill and gossip.

No one knew what happened when the house around the corner swallowed her at the end of the day. No one knew what the silhouettes looked like from the other side of the curtains in the middle of the night.

One morning, as the bus welcomed her aboard once more, an unfamiliar clunking and rolling sound turned heads. There she appeared, struggling with a suitcase big enough to fit an entire room in. With a few helping hands the case sunk deep into the seat in front. A groan escaped both the seat and her as she collapsed beside me as usual. I searched every line of her face, looking for answers. There were no fireworks exploding from her eyes. In fact, they looked as dull and distant as the morning fog hugging the mountains, like deformed ghosts waiting for the sun to erase them from the world. The look I gave her forced a weak smile to tug at the corners of her mouth.

For the first time since I’d known her, she didn’t say much.

In the space of a day she was unrecognizable. There was nothing left but layer upon layer of secrets. It was as though they were eating her alive.

The following morning the bus did not pause by the house around the corner.

Days and weeks and soon months passed, but the suitcase never returned, and neither did its owner. Whispers of theories spread like ripples in a pond. Everyone was clueless to where she had vanished.

The bus always ignored the house around the corner, and eventually so did the people on board. But for some reason I continued watching. Part of me still carried an expectation – still searched the windows for a swish of dark hair or a crooked smile. I never thought I’d miss her so much. Had she even existed? All that remained of her was my vivid memories and the house around the corner.

Forever the house around the corner.