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Starrywonder

  • The House That Won't Let Go

    There is a house down the street. The grass is overgrown, the windows to grimy to see inside, and the paint is sagging off the walls. There are stories of ...

    • Short Story
    6 min read


I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights