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The House That Listens
horror◐ Teen5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Tucked in the folder was a faded photo of the house being built. A man stood out front holding a brass cone, like an old hearing trumpet. On the back someone had written: "He buried his listening machine under the floor so it would never go deaf." My stomach dropped. The thing wasn't the house. It was under it.
I reached for the machine, and the second my fingers touched the cold brass, every sound in the house stopped, even my own breathing in my ears. I yanked my hand back. Mara was shouting at me, I could see her mouth moving, but no sound reached me at all. The machine had taken my hearing instead of my voice. It always finds something to keep.
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