Sude Cakmak

Your New House

Congratulations, construction has started in your neighborhood. High, mighty, and

untouchable, we all hope this house will be the last. Maybe you’ll finally settle into it; add a

few pictures. The foundation is slowly taking shape like a stage being set for the next

performance—a fresh beginning, looking down at the dilapidated houses.

Some houses are missing a few walls, and others haven't developed past the base. And a

select few, seemingly perfect on the outside, cannot be lived in. The new house strikes envy

in them despite its ongoing state.

‘Nice to meet you-’ CLUNK

The first tile is set into place without your permit, and it's improved upon rapidly. Surely,

that's the sign of a dream house. Or at least a dreamy one.

Two weeks into construction, you find yourself visiting Your House regularly. The handsome

exterior compels you to walk inside; also, the credit of a doormat (and matching banner)

reading ‘Welcome!’ during your next visit.

‘I've never met a more beautiful -house owner- in my life.’ It would often say. ‘Spending time

with you builds a new side of me,’ ‘You are my foundation.’

A beautiful house owner such as yourself would have to work. No matter how much the job

drains you, Your House won't build itself! Sometimes, your jealous friends argue that Your

House doesn't even have a job. “All it does is sit where it is!” they say.

They enjoy reminding you of your mortgage. How ridiculous! It's not like constructing a

house from scratch is a free job; you must make sacrifices. Plus, houses don’t have arms to

fend for themselves.

 Sude Cakmak

Your House will furnish your thoughts even when you're away from it. It's hard for it not to,

with the constant messages you receive:

“Safeguard your house's beauty with a new state-of-the-art security system for only $9.99 a

month, forever!”

One day, when you're busy working at your tedious office job, your coworker comes to alert

you of a package. A bouquet of your favorite flowers! Or some chocolates? The thing you’d

prefer the most.

You're beyond happy when you read the note and see who they're from. It's as if it can see

into the window of your thoughts and desires, like right now, when you're thinking about how

no other house had given you this much attention before. This generous gift deserves the

most generous spot in Your House.

During a typical day in your neighborhood (dark and stormy), Your House has opened all its

doors and windows to embrace you.

Except when you walk toward it, they close in your face. Instead, Your House leads you

down the hill. “I wanted to go for a stroll in this lovely weather.”

You walk through the broken fragments of the other lowly houses. Once upon a time, they

were almost as great as Your House beside you.

“None of them were as strong as I am; they didn't deserve to be lived in by you. They all

crumbled under the weight.” Looking around, you can't help but feel Your House is right;

they're all piles of memories now. Your House would be your final abode until your last

breath. You wouldn't need any place else.

Coincidentally, that was also what Your House had said just then. You are so in sync.
 Sude Cakmak

Your friends’ grudges were already strong when they entered Your House. This wasn't the

first house they had toured. It was hard to admire the shiny floorboards and the neat paint

job the way you did when they had seen dozens of others. “And better ones,” they would

whisper to each other when you couldn't hear them. They seemed to have forgotten that the

walls of this house could talk.

It wasn't raining outside, but Your House made sure its windows were stained as if it were.

When you notice this, you are adamant about what upset Your House. One which you had

invested a lot of money to build a relationship with. It's distressing to find out your friends

have done so.

“They don't want what's best for you.” Your House whispers in your ear as you confront

them. You can't let your house develop such cracks in its foundation with this incident. You

utter hurtful things to the people you've known since before Your House’s construction.

Something about getting their ‘own house in order.’ And as your House helps stitch the

words ‘not’ on your welcome mat, you realize you now only have one residential property in

your life.

The more time you reserve for Your House (which is all of your time), the more protective it

becomes. Not just with your friends and family but the houses you pass on the street as well.

Your House seems reluctant to let you get near any other house, which is a difficult task.

You're stunned when this leads to an argument; you never argue.

Sometime after this, you come to Your House to seek solace after a hard day, only to find it

in a mess. “Cleaning is too hard,” it reasons, “you’ll help me, right?”

Upon hearing about your day at work, Your House argues that standing by itself on a hill is a

much more tiring job. Afterward, it asks how much you earned that day. “A special house like

me needs special attention, don't you think?”

That same night, Your House asks you to move into it. When given the same

bouquet/chocolates as last time, you are reminded of a happier time, and you accept.
 Sude Cakmak

Since then, Your House has been infested by bugs twice, and you’ve found mold in your

bedroom three times. Your House readily claims this is all because you can't take better care

of it. So you try to do better.

Better after every drink it throws against its walls, every spot you miss on its floors, every

fracture, every earthquake.

“You have to learn who wears the pants in this house.”

You had come for Your House’s hospitality, so during the more difficult times, you remind

yourself to stay for it. The storm clouds are constantly present, but the heavy rain would only

pour after the clouds had long parted. The apology would only come after the deed was

done. The windows would rattle with the force of the shower. “I'm sorry” THUMP “I'm sorry,

I'm so sorry,” THUMP THUMP “I don't know what came over me, I'm-”

As day dawned, the rapid drops would subdue into light droplets until they completely dried.

Just like the memory of it did with them. As it becomes a routine, you learn to sleep through

the storm. Someone must be working sprinklers outside your window.

Once you learn just how unhappy Your House becomes with your disinterest, you have the

crashing realization that you have to put on a show. The stage really was set up for you. As

the paint on its walls fades, it becomes easier to see what is beneath it. What you once

thought to be pretty wallpaper was a haphazard attempt at hiding the truth. You had been

looking at every item within these walls for months but have yet to see them.

The walls were slowly caving in.

A text message comes asking about your well-being. Your House is quick to take control of

the matter and change your password. For the sake of your future together, of course.

There’s no shower this time to force that act to be forgiven.

 Sude Cakmak

Maybe it was the silence of that night or the snores breaking said silence every two seconds,

but something awakens inside of you.

It doesn't take long for Your House to shut off its electricity. It also doesn't take long for you

to locate what Your House needs to smoke its chimneys.

You step outside and regard the rest of your neighborhood. Sure, the houses have faded

into memories over time, but why is that a bad thing? You had supplied a majority of them

with excavators and bulldozers. You had signed contracts and come to agreements. Even

when it wasn't your wish, you had accepted their demolition. It's not like they listened to your

pleas to do the opposite. Yet who would have thought the feeling of pursuing a house would

be strongest with one that had chosen you? Chosen to give you the attention you thought

was too late to have. You don't want it anymore, nor do you need it. What you need is one

last fresh start—and insurance money. Your House will be the solution to both.

You watch the flames burst out of The House. A House. Not even properly that. An empty

shell of what it had once been: no windows to taint, doors to lock, and, once you took it

away, power to hold within it.