House on the Hill
Category A: Second Place (2025) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Dulara Jayasekara
The house on the hill sat lonely and quietly, calm in face of the chaos.
The eye of the storm.
It had learned to keep its mouth shut from the wisdom of age, gained maturity from the weathering of its wooden panels, once as smooth as the flat side of a blade, once supple, once a pale buttery yellow, then later painted the dull blue of melancholy. Now, the only blue was the heavy gloom that hung around it like a thick shroud of fog, and the boards stained a stormy gray, rot blooming like death-sweet flowers.
It allowed itself the mundane reprieves of odd creaks and squeals, nothing so unorthodox as the whispers from its walls that drove the inhabitants to insanity, the unearthly shrieks and wails it used to screech in protest at the howling wind that lashed its sides and threatened to blow it over, the voice that fractured their narrow minds.
Now, after seeing no humane face in over centuries, it was caught off guard to see one, fresh-faced, with wide, curious eyes, thick black lashes like feathers plucked from the wings of the ravens that perched on its sagging rooftop.
Before it could remember to keep quiet, a little, puzzled creak rose up from within it and wormed into the little human’s ears. The little human tilted their head, silky strands of black hair falling over their eyes, the same blue-gray as the house, the desolate color of sorrow, of gravestones on a rainy day. Looking into their eyes, the house felt as though the little human understood loneliness. Understood it.
The little human opened their mouth, and said, in a voice like silver mist, “You can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”
The house was unsure, remembering what happened to those it held so dear after it deigned to speak to them, their minds shattered so easily with the tiniest nudge.
But the house, going alone for so long, yearned for communication. It craved companionship, and it seemed here it took the form of a little human with big, sad eyes.
“Do you know what I am?” The house croaked, voice hoarse from years of disuse, as weathered as its wood.
“Does it matter?”
The house considered this. “I suppose not.”
They stayed like that a second more, this time with the little human awaiting the house to open up its heart and let her in.
“Loneliness isn’t all that bad, you know.” The sweet smoke of her voice drifted towards the house.
“Oh?” It asked, afraid to lose its one chance at connection.
“It's the only time you can explore your own world instead of trudging through another’s reality. But sometimes…a friend can make all the difference.” She murmured.
“Would you……..like to be lonely together?” It whispered.
The little human smiled a smile like sunshine- it was all the answer the house needed.
The doors creaked open, and that was the day the little human stepped into its heart forevermore.