The House That Disappears

Every night, the house disappears. It’s as though it was never there, leaving only the foggy air and the empty, overgrown path that leads to it. My friends and I used to dare each other to go up to the front door, to knock and see what happened. But the stories… they were so strange. Some said the house was cursed, others said it was the home of someone who never left. I didn’t believe it, of course. I thought it was just another one of those stories meant to scare us. But when I walked past it that night—curiosity tugging at me like a thread—I saw it. The house was there. It shouldn’t have been, but it was, and as I stepped closer, I felt the air grow colder, the shadows deepen.