The Hollow House

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Children Stories  |  House: Booksie Classic
A children's story for depression.

Submitted: March 27, 2014

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Submitted: March 27, 2014



There was once a hollow house at the end of a lonely winding road. The hollow house hid nobody, for its last owners, a small and timid family, slowly left the house for a garden of stones. Not once did they return, and when the last family member was left behind, he blindly sought for a new home, and silently, he left. Fallen to the floor.

The hollow house weeped and creaked for days, and soon grew into a black hearted, broken, sinking shack. The warm sun refused to shine at the end of the lonely winding road which held the hollow house. The rain refused to fall there, too, and the house soon turned to a dusty, broken, lonely nothing.

It weeped and weeped, begging for someone to come and take care of it. But no one heard its cries, no one acknowledged its longing for the smallest bit of love and care. The hollow house slowly sunk further and further into the deep, pressed soil. It refused to see the warm sunlight. It refused to take in the sound of the distant rain. And the house, once abundant with creaking and weeping, fell silent. And completely and utterly alone.

The silence stayed for an unimaginably long time. The hollow house saw nothing but blackness, still sunk into the deep, pressed soil. But one day, years and years later, a small, silver, metal bug found the house. Unsure of what this contraption could be, the bug held out it’s microscopic arm, waved it toward the house, and suddenly knew.

The small, silver bug ran into the house, found a corner, and fell fast asleep. However, soon enough, even smaller versions of the same bug started running out of its back. They ran in all directions, and soon had tiny bugs of their own.

They all grew up, some looking different than others. Some were small, some were a different shape, a different colour. And as they all grew, they all devised certain jobs to get done so they could survive. The biggest were in charge of protecting the hollow house so none could intrude and become a threat. They immediately recognized threat and protected the hollow house.

The next biggest group was in charge of finding new things and learning about them. They seeked out new things, and learned about them.

The next smallest group was the group in charge of scanning the house and it’s current condition. They found out what was wrong with the hollow house and tried to fix it.

And the smallest group there was was in charge of general survival. They searched for food, water, and life expectancies.

Every day, the bugs would do their job to make sure the hollow house functioned properly. The little bugs, all with different jobs, all with different sizes, all worked together to take care of the hollow house, until one day, the smallest bugs, in charge of getting food and water, became delusional. They forgot to find food, they didn’t care to get water, and they instead, as opposed to preserving their precious lives, drowned themselves.

Well, the next biggest group of bugs, in charge of helping, cleaning, and mending the house, relied heavily on the food and life the smallest bugs provided, and became ill, unable to do their jobs. They couldn’t tell what the house was feeling, and couldn’t help it at all.

Soon after, the next biggest group, in charge of all intelligence of the colony of bugs, couldn’t find new things to learn about, and they forgot how to learn completely. They forgot how to adapt and figure out how to find the missing groups of bugs to help them out. The smallest groups of bugs disappeared altogether.

Lastly, the biggest group of bugs didn’t have the help of the other groups to figure out what to guard against, and became too weary to continue further. And soon, without the rest of their family, they disappeared into the hollow house, and sunk into the deep, pressed soil forevermore.


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