Expressive Piece [bellwork]

   The half drawn curtain moved slightly from the harsh wind whistling through the part way open window. The sound was almost harsh, seeming to make everything else in the room stir -
    What is that, I swore I just saw something moved I'm not crazy maybe it was the wind hopefully because I'm starting to -
    -and papers that had long since been forgotten stirred as if in hopes that fingers would lightly brush over them again and ink would seep into their close knitted fibers. Dust that had accumulated into layers, like that of thickening glaciers, over the years and was kicked up by the wind.
    It should sting my eyes the duct that is it should make me cough and gasp for clean air I should smell the rake oder of an old house -
   Old spider webs, which had long since been left behind by their occupants tore easily from the walls and glistened in the air as their silk moved like a graceful butterfly finally finding its wings.
    Surely, I should've felt as it brushed me won't it have chilled me would've had me wipping at my arms continously because of it sticky and webbish feeling what is going on how could this possibly not be-
    The entire victorian palor seemed to have long since been vacated. Its owners mysteriously leaving everything behind, even a small rag doll that was worn from the use of small hands.
    The fear should be a bitter taste in my mouth unable to change I should be choking on it screaming to leave to run I should run out the door but I can't leave why can't I leave the door is right there why aren't I leaving
    If someone would've been in the room at that moment, they would've felt something move then. Not the wind. It was a chilling movement, yes, but the wind had since died, the room going still.
   I can't leave the mirror then I need to see the look on my...I CAN'T SEE MYSELF! but I'm real I'm alive aren't I I mean I'm moving I'm real -
    The house at the end of the road had been abandoned for years. All its contents unmoved and untouched. Devoid of any living person. The owners had left, claiming their daughter - whom had died of a fierce, blazig fever and sickness - was haunting them. The towns people had never believed them, but never had the courage to prove them wrong.
    I'm real...
    The half drawn curtain moved slightly from the harsh wind whistling through the part way open window...