The house had eyes.
The porch was a chin. The front door, a mouth.
Eli arrived home late, exhausted after another day’s work.
He parked on the driveway, locked his car, crossed stepping stones and climbed to the porch. The porch was a chin. He entered the mouth.
Late that night, after Eli had turned off all the lights and wrapped himself in warm blankets, the dark windows of the house blinked awake. Starlight filled eyes.
Rising from the ground, the house began to walk.
It walked past a row of gray lawns and sleeping houses and turned at Elm Street.
It walked past the dark gas station and the dark liquor store.
It turned onto Main Street and walked past the post office, bank, supermarket. It walked through the black shadows of the junkyard.
The eyes of the house twinkled right and left as they searched the night.
The house passed a cat prowling through an empty lot. It passed under a bat fluttering into the night from under a bridge. It walked past a row of black cedar trees and a lifted finger that was a church steeple. It moved beside pale nightshades that tumbled from inside the iron fence of the cemetery. It observed the hands of the town clock grasping eternity.
Under remote stars the house roamed.
A strange dream moved it. An impossible dream that was wrapped behind its eyes. A dream that was brighter than the stars, that turned gray shadows to certainties and the solemn dark to a thousand brilliant colors.
Walking through the night, the house at last found what it sought.
Eli woke as the sun rose above the horizon.
He looked out at the familiar street from his bedroom window, at the newly mown lawn and bed of cheerful yellow gardenias.
He was ready for another day.