It was early in the morning, near a small house nestled in the suburbs, big enough to only house a few people. It had a very unassuming exterior; The front was a simple sidewalk through an overgrown lawn, leading up to a white door. The walls were painted a pale green, two windows evenly spaced to the side. It was sandwiched between a more modern home, and a two story home for a large family.
Nobody really knew who lived there, though people could only mention hearing weeping from within every now and then.
There was an empty shoe cubby and empty coat rack immediately in the front door.
The living room was well kept, a small love seat with a clean cover over it, sitting in front of a TV. The kitchen had dishes sitting on a drying rack, a few flies mindlessly buzzing around them. A small table with two seats was set, plates and silverware ready for a meal to be prepared upon.
The bedroom door was locked.
The bathroom was clean, looking thoroughly scrubbed of any lime or hard water stains. A toothbrush sat in a cup next to the sink faucet. The medicine cabinet only held toothpaste and mouthwash inside of it.
From the basement door, the knob turned. From it, emerged an automaton.
It was put together from brass tubes and loose wires, electrical tape holding its joints and motors together. Its chest held a battery, along with all sorts of other strange, whirring machinery. Two spotlight-like eyes were propped to its “brain”: An absolute mess of wires and cables connected to something unknown.
It slowly walked towards the living room, and stared silently at the couch. It turned to the kitchen, staring at the table. It walked towards the bathroom, staring again. It walked to the bedroom door, knocking on it.
Silence.
The automaton walked back to the living room, staring at the front door. Hours upon hours passed, as it stared. It occasionally caught glimpses of other families passing by, walking together, or children playing around the neighborhood.
As night fell, it turned around, returning to the basement.
Through the floorboards, weeping could be heard.
Fish Stories 