The Plagues of Pandora

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Some said that age clung to the crumbling relic like a filthy, protective shroud. Others likened it more to a house of insanity, and that the shroud was protecting the villagers from the place itself rather than the other way around. Over the years it had represented many things to the maturing community; from the proverbial haunted house with its rambling, untended gardens to a symbol of their own steady decay to a representation of hate in harder times — the dying, blazing sun setting behind it, pouring its terrible fire through the jagged, cracked windows straight down into the center of town. The children harbored many a fear and undertook dares and monster-quests nearby, but they were fine and their parents were fine and the place eventually passed beyond their concerns, its illusory image overshadowed by responsibilities and life changes, television and wine. And of course most children are always fine… until maturity makes the dares and the challenges they set themselves take on a darker, more adult nature.

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