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I am the House, and I regard
Aloft on the hill, the light seeks me I can only absorb it, and feed the darkness
I am devoid of judgment I do not discriminate I welcome none, but allow all Many have sought solace within None dwell in peace
Have I no bones? My columns support morbid actions You dare say I have no skin? My walls peel from unholy deeds
Have I not eyes? My frosted panes tell no future But swell with the past Much I see, and do not relish the view
Do I not bleed? My pipes seep of cursed life I have no scars? The ceilings are seared They blister with aging sin The floors are engraved with profane rage
I have no mind? My attic seethes with shame Motes dance amongst rotting beams, crooked from guilt I do not breathe But the decayed air echoes with stifled breaths
Yet, I still regard
I am the refuge of feats untoward A sanctuary of evil, horror, and hell My foundation cracks with buried intent The bodies do not speak, but the dead do Roaming the halls, yearning to confide, warn, and remind
Acts committed? They cannot be numbered Stories? My rooms tell many
A planned execution upstairs The curtains are still stained A lonely girl, desolate and lost The rope still swings from the rafters
A dark ritual, summoning an unbridled force The ancient carvings still mark the floor A lover’s revenge on a cheating act The holes still riddle the bed
A man on the run, looking to bury his guilt The rumpled clothes lay charred in the boiler A drifter just passing through The perished food still rots in the kitchen
A remorseful leader bent with shame The bath water still swirls red around the blade Thieves fleeing the inevitable The loot remains hidden in the basement
Yes, it all rests in me Hate, disgust, desire, angst, rage Remorse, sorrow, pain, grief, regret And there is always room for more
As the dusk dissolves to night The town still pretends Yet I remain silent I have long before, and will long after
Interview with Kevin Hollaway, Author of “The House Regards”
What inspired your story?
I always liked the idea of that one house in town that everyone avoids. Starting with that, I decided to make it a kind of supernatural witness and sponge for all the secrets and dark acts the inhabitants of the town choose to ignore.
What’s your favorite gothic story or poem and why?
For me Bram Stoker’s Dracula is hard to beat.
How long have you been writing?
About 15 years.
Do you have a theme you return to time and again?
No particular theme, but as far as genres go I stick mostly to horror/suspense and occasionally Sci-Fi.
Do you have a favorite quote that inspires you?
From Dracula: “I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings.”
What are you working on now?
I’m at a break, but taking notes on some short story ideas.