Vertical Cracks Best -

Not in the wall.

You reached in. Something reached back.

You could have left. You should have. But the cracks had become your geography. You traced them in the dark like Braille, reading a story written in reverse: not what the house was becoming, but what it had always been. A vessel. A wound. A door that only opens inward. vertical cracks

Only the quiet.

The second crack appeared in the hallway mirror’s reflection. No, not in the mirror—behind the glass, splitting the silver backing into two distinct worlds. On one side, your face, tired but familiar. On the other, a version of you that hadn’t slept in years, eyes hollow as wells. You turned around. The real wall was smooth. But the crack in the reflection stayed. Not in the wall