Bad Luck

With all the doors and windows gone, the house looked toothless. The house was an old man. No one knew why I did it. They said that day and night as they walked and drove past. They didn't use words to say it, but it was plain as day that's what they were thinking. How they'd grab little looks at the house before they turned the corner.

I can't explain it, really. The house was plugged up. Do you know how many bad things happened in that house? Not just regular bad, like arguments and broken dishes. Bad things. Sickness. Sadness. Some people think it was Lana passing that did it to me. I don't know. Could be right. She was not even three years old. How can anyone "come to terms," as they say? That's a puzzle. She was fine one day and two weeks later, gone. She'd stopped crying out. Her mother was, of course, gone. She passed a year before from fever.

Once I was all alone in there, I got to thinking. No time to think before that. I started to wonder if maybe the bad luck inside was swirling around and around, like paint going down a drain. And maybe that bad luck had no place to go. Seemed reasonable. Still does, if you want to know. So I took all the windows out, first thing. Started with the second story. I didn't break them or anything. I'm not crazy. I'm not a mountain man dazed by solitude. I was just working out a theory. I kept having bad dreams, so the doors went, too. The bad luck needed a little help to get on and find someplace else to be. I'd have knocked over a wall if I'd thought that would help.

With the doors and windows out, things cooled off a bit. The house breathed a little. My dreams cleared up. I don't have to worry about burglars. You'd be surprised how few people want to come inside a house with no doors. Makes them uneasy. Nervous. Not me.