Charles

There was a small house that sat at the top of a hill. When it rained too much the hill seemed to slump back into the dirt trying not to get wet. The house on this hill tried to act like its shield. It would eat the rain, absorb the wetness, the ground, the stilts that the house sat on digging into the ground slowly sliding into the ground - becoming the ground.

This small house on the top of the hill was amongst many on top of many hills. The town that it sat in was very hilly. Not a mountain, not very tall, but bumpy like legs after camping. The hilly town was named Hillside after the hills and also the founder. Very few people lived in Hillside. People found it tedious and bad for their cars. No one lived in the small house that sank into the ground, mostly due to insurance issues, but many people admired it. The durability and loyalty the house had to its hill was unlike others. The residents of Hillside hoped their houses had the same loyalty. They would get down on their knees at night and pray they would never slide off their hill.

A small group of children who were not rebellious but mostly curious would sometimes go to this small house that no one lived in that sat at the top of a hill in a town named Hillside. They would climb the long, blue staircase and find themselves on the porch. While on the porch they could feel themselves sinking into the ground - the weight of something other than the house withering away at its knees. The house was still happy to have visitors. The children would look out to their town of Hillside and find their own houses on top of hills. They would see their local grocery store: Hanter’s. They watched the mailman drive up and down and up and down and leave presents for all the residents. Sometimes they would catch the mayor sitting in his car getting head from someone they didn’t recognize. These children kept notes of what they saw and shared it with their school via google docs. They made sure not to share the document with their teachers. This was a children's secret.

The house on top of the hill that was slowly sliding into the earth was happy to hold them. The blue and white paint chipped away at the edges of the house and the shutters barely clung to the house, but it did not think about the decay much. Neither did the children. Sometimes in their notes the children would describe the house as if it were their friend. They had named the house Charles. It was the only Charles they knew.

Soon after the shared google doc reached a page count of one hundred other students went to visit Charles. This made the house more useful. People who used to watch with envy of the perched top now felt like they had a right to see the view from this house on this hill named Charles in the town named Hillside. It seemed as though everyone had visited Charles at least seven times, now. The google doc had more and more participants, more and more notes, soon teachers and mailmen and mothers and dogs were able to view and add to the story of the notes from the view of Charles.

Eventually, even the mayor was added to the shared google doc and this is when Charles was demolished. The students tried to protest. They made picket signs and brought chains to tie themselves to the house, but sadly all their parents came at seven and unbuckled them so they could be in bed by eight. Charles was torn down, fumbled and fell down the hill to the bottom of the street, the bottom of the view, the bottom of Hillside. Everyone cried, including the mayor, because he understood the beauty of Charles. Still, though, the stilts stood. No one could demolish those, the notes read.