The New People

Between any four walls lies a haunting truth

Julian nodded and looked out the window. The soft clinks of dishes came from the kitchen. A woman laughed, then a child.

"Yes," Julian said to the man in the suit. The suit was torn at the shoulder, and the left side of his head was a mess of blood-clotted hair. "Yes, I can understand how you feel about it."

He turned and paced the room, stopping by the fireplace. He traced his fingertips along the mantle approvingly. "I really won't let you do that, though, you know."

The lights dimmed, and the laughter stopped for a moment. The woman in the kitchen raised her voice. "Honey?" she called.

Julian frowned, looking at the injured man sidelong. "Bad form, young man. No need to bother the family. This is between you and me."

The young man's eyes— the one that wasn't filled with blood, anyway— seemed to alternate between pleading and demanding. But every time he opened his mouth to speak, Julian cut him off.

"No, not another word on it, sir!"

They stared at each other for several moments. The young man looked desperate; Julian looked stern.

"I used to live here, you see. In fact, I'm the first to have ever lived here. You think your tragic energy is enough to claim this space?" Julian snapped his fingers, and the man's face opened in a silent scream. Julian took a step forward, holding his fingers under the man's nose. "Nothing is stronger than the energy of the love I bring to this space and this family! Now— You...must...GO!"

The young man exploded into nothingness. Julian drifted over to the kitchen and watched the mother dab the little boy's nose with suds. He smiled as they both laughed, glanced at him— through him—and continued their happy lives.

(Word Count: 300)