It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to one another, and I must admit the last time you visited; we couldn’t come to terms and left things on a sour note.
Since your departure, I’ve come to appreciate sour over sweet — I find that the sweetness makes my stomach hurt and makes me quite sleepy.
The neighbours are gone, and I wanted to assure you — you wouldn’t bothered should you choose to visit again.
I wish that you would.
I got rid of the horrible looking wallpaper, and now the walls stripped to grey concrete. I’m still not sure what colour I’ll paint them with.
In search of you, I went back to when we first made acquaintance.
Driving backwards on the road, reminded me of the sound you made when you ate cereal.
The gas tank was running low and the light was constantly reminding that if I didn’t find a fuel soon enough, it would abandon me.
I came across one, and the attendant seemed confused — apparently not many people ever chose to stop by and say hello.
I filled up the gas tank with the $48 that I had in my pocket, with $2 to spare to buy myself a can of soda.
The sweetness of the soda didn’t taste as sweet as it used to, I looked to check the ingredients to make sure the recipe hadn’t changed.
It wasn’t the fault of the makers, maybe I’d just developed a tolerance for the flavour.
The last few sips tasted sour instead of sweet, which made me wonder if it was the residue at the bottom of the tin can or just a figment of my imagination.
The attendant asked me where I was headed, and I thought it was best to mention what I was looking for.
After hearing my intention, the attendant didn’t seem too content with my presence.
I sat back in my vehicle, looking for cigarettes — I realised I’d forgotten to buy some.
Going back to the attendant didn’t seem like such a bright idea.
There weren’t any ATM’s around either.
I’ve been thinking about your presence in our neighbourhood and how rarely we appreciated it.
Maybe it was your dishevelled appearance or your exaggerated mannerisms, either way we realised we’d been unkind and dismissive.
In my failed attempts at being able to locate you, I’d made my way back to the old neighbourhood.
I left the door unlocked, incase you decide to visit with us again.
The broken jars, have been replaced and there’s no need for you to worry about the furniture.
We got rid of everything we didn’t need.
Despite all my ramblings,
I guess the reason I’d really like for you to come visit us again, Mr. Horror, is because we’ve grown too comfortable and have forgotten what once made us all human.
We have become immune to pain and whilst we stand strong, our bones feel weak.
We’re complaining all the time, though life seems to be perfect.
What’s missing is a touch of the feelings you invoked in us.
The repulsiveness, The paranoia, The feeling of being attacked by you at any minute; though you never did and never had the intention.
We misunderstood your presence as a reflection of our own insecurities, failing to reconcile, failing to admit that we’re all afraid of what we do not understand.
Our fault wasn’t that we misunderstood you, Mr. Horror.
It was that we never attempted to do so.
If you may choose to return, I’d like for you to know we aren’t going to run away this time.
Instead we hope to share a warm embrace of what once made us all human.