Ollie knocked on the black door.

In the silence of the response, his chest pounded and implored for him to leave.

He certainly would, if only he had somewhere to be.

My last house, my last chance.

With trembling fingers he twisted the cold doorknob, and with a shrill creak, the door opened. Inside, there was darkness. In the back, a dying light cast a faint, flickering glow. Still, Ollie used the pale illumination to guide his way within.

"Hello?" He asked the void. "Is anyone here?"

The door slammed shut behind him. He would have screamed, but the overwhelming dread immobilized him. That and the subtle creaking, that in its ominous cadence revealed the presence of another being.

"Hi," Ollie spoke to the shadowy being.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, giving layers and details to the gloom.

The stranger was sitting in a rocking chair, surrounded by a room bare of life or furniture, beside him a small table with the pale and dying candle.

https://i.imgur.com/p9DvYbW.jpeg [https://i.imgur.com/p9DvYbW.jpeg]

"I knocked on the door," Ollie justified himself timidly. "You didn't answer."

The rocking chair went back and forth, sometimes almost revealing the countenance of its host, sometimes hiding him within the dense darkness of the shadows.

"I always knew you would enter," the stranger spoke in a hoarse and tired voice. "No matter the path of your life, all roads end here."

What a terrible thing to say.

"I would ask your name," Ollie raised his ears. "But you're not going tell me, are you?"

"If you wanted to know," the stranger sighed, "you would."

"Who are you?" Ollie felt a shiver. "What are you?"

The figure stopped rocking. "I am nobody," he leaned forward, "I am nothing."

"You're a dream," Ollie took a step forward. "But what kind of dream are you?"

The stranger laughed. A mocking laugh, devoid of joy.

"I am not a dream," he said, followed by a long and uncomfortable silence. "I am the awakening of dreams." He leaned into the pale light.

Ollie shuddered at the decadence of his appearance.

It was old Pig, a very old Pig wearing black filthy rags.

His hunched body was frail and thin, his gray skin was marred with wounds and caked with dirt, his thin arms stretched over protruding bones, his snout was crooked, and he gave a fake smile, behind his broken yellow teeth.

As Ollie took in the sight of the decrepit figure before him, the words 'miserable' and 'unhappy' flickered through his mind.

"What does the awakening of dreams mean?" he asked.

"Waking up, boy." The Pig's eyes were black and shiny, distortedly reflecting everything they saw, like a madhouse mirror of darkness. "Waking up to the truth."

Ollie knew this was the time to ask "what truth?" but the words caught in his throat.

His eyes scanned the abandoned figure, marked by years of neglect and carelessness. The old Pigwas not just a dirty beggar, within him, there seemed to be an indefinable quality, one that denied any feeling of pity and instead brought about an abject disgust.

However, Ollie knew that appearances here, only existed to deceive him.

"What do you have to offer me?" He asked with his head held high.

The Old Pig shook his snout of broken teeth and rocked his chair.

Ollie waited.

The silence and indifference of the Old Pig did not disturb him, he could wait forever. For this answer had the power to create or destroy his life.

I guess the condemned have no rush for tomorrow.

"Do you want to know what your future holds?" The Old Pig broke his reflection. "Look around you, everything you see and don't, is yours, this is your life, your destiny."

Ollie looked around, his pupils wide open to the darkness.

There was nothing to see.

There was nothing but an empty room. Only walls of rotten wood and shelves without books. The only furniture was the chair and the table, the only possession was a dying candle.

The candle dwindled on a shallow plate of broken ceramic, fighting futilely against the shadows that surrounded it, that waited for its end.

"There's nothing here," Ollie confronted the old man. "Just you and nothing else."

"Nothing," the Old Pig nodded. "Nothing is your future."

"No."

"This is the end of your story," the wounded hand gestured to the filthy and dark room. "Your well deserved reward, for enduring a sad life of disappointment and pain."

"You don't have any power," Ollie spoke quickly. "You can't predict my future."

"You have no future, boy," the Old Pig spoke wearily. "You never did."

"No, I don't believe you, I can't end up like this."

"End up like this?" The Old Pig laughed, now with amusement in his mockery. "You've always been here, alone,." he shook his snout. "Alone in your dream of happiness, alone in the awakening of your suffering."

"What kind of dream is this?" Ollie stared at the room. "Why would I want to live like this?"

"Because it makes no difference," The shining black eyes stared at him. "Yours is not the choice to be or not to be, here. Yours is the choice to be, or pretend not to be, here."

"I can leave."

"Can you?" The Old Pig smiled with his broken teeth. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

No.

"I still have the candy." Ollie felt the outline of the heart in his pocket. "I know that's what you want from me."

"Yes, the candy." The Old Pig spoke with disgust. "The candy you want to exchange for your good dream."

"Yes." Ollie crossed his arms. "If you want the candy, I want a something good."

"There is no good dream."

"No, I know there is." Ollie stared at the candle about to go out. "If nightmares are real, then why can't good things be real too?"

"You are not unhappy because happiness doesn't exist, boy." The Old Pig laughed without joy. "You are unhappy because the happiness you seek will never belong to you."

"Why not?" Ollie spoke barely above a whisper. "What did I do to deserve this place?"

"You did nothing." The Old Pig waved his snout. "There is no purpose for pain, there is no plan, no god, no rewards for the good or reprives for the vile. There is no order only chaos, only mechanical whims of a broken universe devoid of meaning."

"No, I can't accept that." Ollie stared at the black reflection of the Old Pig's eyes. "This place is magical, you can't bring me to a magical place to tell me that magic doesn't exist, this place is proof that there is a purpose, that nothing is impossible."

The old Pig snorted. “Look at you, boy.”

Ollie could not see his body, but he raised his empty hand, he saw the dirty, the cratches and the dried blood, he felt the pain, the shame, that agony that came with understanding.

“There are no rainbows here are there?” The tired voice of the Pig spoke with almost tenderness. “This place is proof that wherever you go, you go nowhere."

Ollie lowered his head, he was back where he started, the old Pig was right.

I have nothing.

No, that is not true.

He raised his head and faced the black eye of the old Pig.

“I still have the candy.” He with timid confidence.

The old Pig trembled for a brief moment.

"You want the candy, right?” Ollie asked.

The old Pig grasped the arms of his rocking chair.

"Yes." he said not because he wanted, the words were compelled from him. “Yes.”

"Then you're going to have to offer me something better."

The Old Pig took a long sigh. "I have something better."

“What?” Ollie dared not to hope.

The broken yellow teeth smiled. “Acceptance.”

"What in the abyss do I do with acceptance?"

The Old Pig shrugged.

"Answer me." Ollie insisted.

The Old Pig beckoned him to come closer.

With reluctance, Ollie acquiesced.

It was an unsettling proximity, with only the small table between them.

"Look at the candle." The Old Pig spoke without staring at the light.

Ollie lowered his snout, relieved from the black eyes.

The flame trembled, buried in a small tomb of its melted body.

"It's just a candle." Ollie observed, confused.

"Look beneath, beneath the surface."

Ollie brought his snout closer to the light, to the flame that struggled and waned, he looked for something beyond what he saw, but there was nothing, only the futility of the flame, only the inevitability of the incoming darkness.

"There's nothing to see." Ollie spoke, frustrated. "It's just a candle."

It was just a candle, one that would go out and leave him in the dark.

"You are a slave to this light." The Old Pig spoke in a lament. "Prisoner of its lies," His black eyes judged the fire in a miasma of disgust and dread. "victim of its incessant deceptions."

Ollie stared at the flame, the insignificant spark of light. What a ridiculous idea, how could the little candle harm him? It was just the opposite, it was its light, however weak, that protected him from the darkness of this cursed place.

At the edge of the table, the candle was dying, feeding the shadows that danced at its funeral. Stretching to the rhythm of its suffering, spreading over the three walls in front of him, like misshapen ghosts of a dark nightmare.

I don't see anything because there's nothing to be seen.

At the height of his conviction, a momentary sigh of doubt shook the light.

For a brief moment, the misshapen shadows morphed into three familiar shapes.

On the three walls in front of him, the darkness insinuated itself into the silhouette of three houses. Three houses that welcomed him, mistreated him and lied to him.

Three houses, three dreams, three refusals.

I don't want to see this.

The silhouettes were lost in the shadows.

"The light lies, boy." The old Pig spoke wearily. “Promises made, never delivered"

Ollie felt his hearth squeezed. “In the dark I will suffer more.”

"How could you suffer more?" The Old Pig waved. "Nothing hurts more than believing, it is warm as come closer." He passed his hand over the flame. "But it will burn you if you touch it.”

Ollie spoke in a whisper. "What else can I do?”

"It simple." The Old Pig put his hand over the flame. "So very simple."

Deep darkness grew in the absence of light.

"Stop." Ollie shouted, frightened. "I don't want to be in the dark."

The old man's hand crushed and smothered the small blaze.

"The candle is a lie, boy." his hands covered the fire. "There is no light."

In the absolute darkness, the small spark did not surrender, it refuses to go out.

The old man's hand trembled, burned and stung.

"Stop." Ollie's scream was now one of agony. "You're hurting yourself."

The Old Pig ignored his words as he tried to ignore the pain. But the pain grew along with the flame, which, however fragile, also refused to surrender.

When the stench of his burning fur tainted the dense air of the room, the Pig withdrew the wounded remains of his darkened hand.

"It hurts so much." The Old Pig lamented with tears running from his black eyes. "Nothing should hurt this much."

"Why did you put your hand in the candle?"

"So you could understand."

"Understand what?"

The Old Pig extended his trembling palm, exposing inflamed red veins running between black blisters. "Look what your light has done to me."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

My light?

"It's your fault." Ollie spoke coldly. "You shouldn't have put your hand in the fire."

"What difference does it make, boy?" The Old Pig shouted. "Whether I deserve to suffer or not? It hurts no more or less. It means nothing it changes nothing."

"Of course it changes, you chose to suffer."

"Do you think I want to be here?" The Old Pig clenched his fist. "No one chooses to be here, no one chooses this damn place."

"Why don't you leave?"

"I am bound to you, trapped in the tragedy of your life."

"I don't want to be here either." Ollie spoke with euphoria. "If no one wants to be here, then this place doesn't have to exist, we can leave for a better one."

The Old Pig laughed with scorn and pain.

"I have the candy." Ollie continued with a childish enthusiasm. "If you offer me a better place, I can give you the candy, I can give you the candy and you can get out of here, we can go together, we can live together in my good dream."

"Look at the candle, boy."

"Answer me."

"The candle is your answer."

Ollie didn't want to, he didn't want to see the shadows of the houses, didn't want to see the waning light, didn't want to witness its inevitable end. "No."

"Look at the damn candle."

Ollie obeyed, there was the candle, still small, still fighting against the darkness.

How brave,

How courageous,

How stupid.

The light shrank, cooling in the acquiescence of his illusion.

"You don't have the power, do you?" Ollie asked without taking his eyes off the flame. "You can't change my world, can't change people, can't offer me a good dream."

"No." The Old Pig replied wearily. "I cannot give what is beyond your reach to take it."

"The light is not enough." Ollie held back tears. "My flame is weak."

The old Pig nodded with a sigh, with the relief of one who waited an eternity.

"Even in the beginning when it burned stronger." The black eyes stared at the light with regret. "Your light was never enough, it never will be."

Ollie stared at the candle. "This is not fair."

"No." The Pig spoke with compassion.

"Is that what you want me to accept?" Ollie stared at the Old Pig with terror. "A life in the dark, a life of unhappiness and loneliness?"

"Never." The old Pigspoke with emotion. "No one deserves to suffer like that."

"But you said..." Ollie asked confused. "You said that was what you had for me."

"Of course not, boy." The old Pig shouted, offended. "I don't what you to accept the Black House, I want you to accept that there is will never be happiness here."

"I accept." Ollie spoke with sincerity.

“I want you to accept that we must leave this place of sorrow.”

“Of course I accept, anything, I want anything, any place other than this place."

Ollie didn't dare breathe or move, he even ignored the flame that suddenly burned stronger. Could it be possible? Could it be possible that the Old Pig was going to offer him a way out?

My good dream.

"Offer me the candy." The Old Pig extended his palm of black blisters and reddened veins. "Give me the power to awaken us from this nightmare."

Ollie put his hand inside his pocket, feeling the soft warmth of the small heart.

It didn't make a difference now, did it? This was his last house, his last choice.

Inside him, a voice screamed with urgency and agony, ordering him to not hesitate. But in the silenced bellow, a familiar voice warned him.

Bad dreams lie.

"How?" Ollie asked as the candle trembled. "How are you going us from this place?"

The candle flame burned, making the dark shadows dance.

Ollie wanted to believe, needed to believe, would believe.

The old Pig nodded. "You know." he pointed to the candle.

Ollie turned his face to the flame. "I don't know."

"You always knew."

"No."

"Yes."

"You're going to blow out the candle."

The Old Pig laughed wearily.

Ollie witnessed with horror the flame shrinking. "I don't want to be in the dark."

"But in the dark we are." The Old Pig smiled. "In the dark we will always be."

"No." Ollie looked at the candle. "I don't want to die."

"So you confess?" he pointed his burned finger. "You always knew what you came to find."

"No." Ollie frowned his snout. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You lie, boy." The Old Pig grimaced. "You already knew what awaited you here, you knew the moment you accepted a sweet from a stranger."

"No." Ollie spoke terrified. "He promised me a good dream."

"He told the lie you wanted to hear," The Old Pig gave a mocking laugh. "He offered you nothing in exchange of everything you have."

"That's what you say."

"I told you that you would never return from the Black House." The Old Pig widened his black eyes. "I told you not to come, yet here you are."

“You are the voices in my head?”

“Why would you open the door, when you knew there death on the other side?.”

"Because I had no choice." Ollie shouted in fury. "I have nothing, no place and no one. But I'm not here because I want to die, you goddamed cretin. I'm here cause I have nothing to lose."

"Finally the truth." The Old Pig smiled with his broken teeth. "The truth you run, that you fight, that you deny." he nodded, "Is the truth that brought you here."

"I beat the other houses," Ollie said taking a step back. "I can beat you."

"Beat me? Beat how, boy?" The old Pig shrugged. "Going back to your world? Going back to the life you can't stand? To the friends you don't have? To the father you don't see? To the mother who imprisons you? To the future you don't have?" he raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you are going to beat me? With purposeless suffering?"

Ollie didn't know what to answer, but something had to be said. "I can change." his voice came out shaky. "Now that I know the wrong paths, I will be able to find the right one."

"Nobody wants you."

The light shrank, making the darkness of the Black House grow.

"No matter the road." The tired voice continued. "On all of them you walk alone."

"No, that's not true." Ollie spoke without conviction.

"All your roads end here."

"Seffia," Ollie spoke trembling, but with his heart. "Seffia wanted me."

"Isn't it cruel? That precisely those with the power to give you joy are but those who made you suffer the most?"

"I can find her again, even if I forget about her." Ollie spoke trembling. "Nothing matters if she finds me, if she remembers me."

"No one will save you, boy."

Ollie wanted to say no, wanted to fight against his dark words.

But he was so tired of trying, of waking up, of going on.

"Why not?" Ollie asked in supplication. "Why can't I have a happy ending?"

"Have you forgotten?" The Old Pig spoke almost tenderly. "The lesson your sweet Seffia taught you?"

Ollie frowned his eyes. “Don't talk about her.”

“You want to forget her, but she is the reason you came to me.”

“I will forget her, and when I find my happy place I will forget you too.”

‘Don't be stupid, boy.” he waved his charked hand. “Is not the taste of the poison that kills, you drank juice that day, remember? You smiled and you laugh, It was everything you wanted, but happiness was not the cure, it the bane that showed you the Black House.”

“Yes.” Ollie lowered his head.

“Tell me boy, what did you see in light?”

"I don't want to be here."

The Old Pig made a grimace of agony. "No one does."

Ollie stared at the small light, which now barely had a flame. The darkness was approaching, he didn't have to kill the light, it was already dying very well on its own. This was the feeling that haunted his life, the cruel notion of powerlessness that he pretended not to see.

"I didn't know how bad my life was until I met Seffia." he spoke in a sigh. "It was as you said, at first it was perfect, so easy, it seemed that she was made for me." he smiled with longing. "But on the day she took me to meet her family, they gave us juice and we spent the afternoon together..." On his lips, his words trebled. "Everything changed without changing, everything was the same as before, but at the same time, nothing would ever be the same again."

"The light is about to die, boy." The Old Pig stared at the weakening candle. "Be brief."

Ollie turned his face to the shadows on the wall. "I saw everything I didn't have." The shadows no longer frightened him. "They were small details, ridiculous and unimportant. Silly questions about how was her day, hugs for no reason, lingering looks. They were small gestures that together poisoned everything." he stared at the light with pain. "It showed everything I didn't have, everything I could never have."

"You saw your emptiness." The Old Pig nodded. "The reverse of what should had been."

Ollie stared into his black eyes, this time almost with affection. He was the only one who knew who he really was, the only one who understand the height of his pain and the bottomless depth of his loneliness.

"Yes." he arched his lips with dejection. "She was the light, and I the shadow."

"A shadow is the prisoner of light."

Ollie gave a slight nod. "I needed her, without her I was unhappy." his ears fell. "But not Seffia, together or apart from me, she would carry her joy whatever she will go."

"She carries joy and you carry your nothing, your heavy and unbearable nothingness."

"You understand, then, why I need to find a good dream."

The Old Pig waved with sorrow. “When the shadow finds the light, it ceases to exist."

He offered his disfigured palm, the red veins running between the black blisters filled with pus, the wound ran down his arm, uglier and fetid.

"By her side I would have been happy."

"No, by her side, you always be here, in the Black House."

“Never.” Ollie frowned his snout. "I won't accept this place."

“Good.” The Old Pig gave a thankful nod. “It is time, let us leave this horrible place.”

Ollie wanted to say yes, and that frightened him, for he knew what yes meat.

“How can I trust you?” He asked softly. “How can I trust you, when you want to kill me?”

“I trust me, because I never lied to you.” He touched his chest with his injured hand. "I protected from the other houses, me, only me and no one else."

"No." Ollie said is whisper.

"I am the one that told that you would lose your father."

"No."

"I am the one, who warned you that your time with Seffia would not last."

"No."

"I am the one, that wont let you forget, that wherever you go, you will walk alone.”

"I want to live." Ollie said without conviction.

"You don't want to live." The Old Pig leaned closer. "You wanted to have lived."

“Yes.” Ollie said in whispers. “Yes.” He repeated with conviction.

The candle flame perished.

In a glacial horror, the darkness occupied the void of the Black House.

"I don't want to be in the dark." Ollie pleaded.

"Don't fear, boy." spoke the voice from the darkness. "I remain by your side."

Ollie felt the old Pig's hand on his shoulder, pressing him gently with comfort.

"I'm tired." He spoke trembling. "Why am I so tired?"

The Old Pig's other hand caressed Ollie's head.

"Hold my hand, let's walk together, walk away from this damned prison."

Ollie held the old Pig's hand, feeling a momentary relief, in the benevolence of his touch, and in the secure comfort of all his hands.

The hand that held his.

The hand that consoled his head.

The hand that rested on his shoulder.

He has three hands?

He tried to flee the Old Pig's touch, but gentle fingers held him with authority.

"What are you doing?" Ollie tried to move in vain. "Let me go."

A fourth hand grabbed his ankle, a fifth grabbed the wrist of his free arm.

"It's not me who is fighting against you." The voice from the darkness spoke gently. "When you fight against me, you fight against your true being."

The hands lost their fingers as they elongated, forming tentacles of darkness.

"Let me go." Ollie spoke softly with weak movements. "I want to leave."

"Very well, boy." The darkness answered satisfied. "Very well."

The black appendages multiplied and fell upon Ollie, entangling his arms, his legs, his chest and even coiling around his throat.

Ollie tried to scream, but the darkness gently suffocated his voice.

Who will miss me?

Seffia? No, for her Ollie had already ceased to exist.

His school? No, for them his absence would be a relief, a joke.

His father? No, for him this would just be another disappointment.

His mother? Yes, she would miss him, she would cry and mourn his absence every day. But him returning, him staying by her side, she would continue to cry and mourn his presence.

It's not enough.

Ollie relaxed into the embrace of the shadows.

Who has nothing, has nothing to lose.

With a sigh he felt the relief as his hope leaked from his heart.

Suddenly, a red glow invaded the comfort of his darkness.

Ollie opened his eyes to the discomfort of the light.

Floating in the darkness, wrapped in tentacles of shadow, he saw the incandescent promise of happiness, the heart-shaped candy.

No.

Ollie tried to move his arm, but it was immobilized by the dark tentacles.

No.

The Old Pig emerged from the shadows, standing, approaching the radiant candy.

"No." Ollie managed to whisper. "No."

"Yes." The Old Pig spoke smiling, smiling for the first time with true joy.

His hands took the precious candy from the dark tentacles, his black eyes reflecting the light emanating from the crystallized sugar, which enchanted him with the deepest passion.

"I didn't offer you the candy." Ollie complained.

The Old Pig opened his snout of broken teeth, and drooled over the prize.

"No." Ollie shouted, with the rest of the strength he had left, "You can't steal it from me." he struggled, but the more he struggled, the more rigid the tentacles became.

The Old Pig turned his black eyes to him, taking a moment as if to remember.

"You blew out the candle." The Old Pig nodded with approval. "You made your choice."

Ollie wanted to fight, wanted to give up, he wanted the candy back, he wanted the candy to cease to exist. Two voices, two lives, no path. Nothing had changed, nothing would change, when he accepted the darkness, he accepted his end.

The Old Pig was not his enemy, all he wanted was his well-being.

No, he doesn't want your well-being, he wants the candy.

The thought was a whisper, the final words of the voice that had lost the duel.

Ollie had also lost his war, his quest, his life. He had no value, no one who cared, no one who would care, the Old Pig was right, what would be the point of fighting for the privilege to continue suffering?

I have no value, only the candy has value.

None of the hosts wanted to help him, everything they offered, promised, said, were just the means with which they sought to satisfy their insatiable hunger.

The candy has value.

The Old Pig's broken teeth fell upon the small heart-shaped candy.

"No." Ollie shouted, but the Pig continued. "I said no."

The red light intensified, to the terror of the Old Pig's black eyes.

"Enough, boy, enough." The Pig shouted. "Now is the time to trust me."

"I don't thrust you.” Ollie shouted back.

“You have no one.” The Pig laughed in disgust. “Can you find your way alone?”

“No.” Ollie confessed with a nod. "I can't do it myself."

“Then you made your choice.” The Pig smiled from his broken teeth. “You choose me.”

Everyone has five dreams.

The words of the Dream Merchant returned to Ollie.

"I still have a dream." Ollie spoke with joy. "There are five dreams."

"You abandoned your fifth dream."

Ollie tried to move, tried to free himself from the black tentacles, but no matter how great his effort, they still had the power to restrain him. "Let me go."

"I will save you, boy." The Old Pig brought the candy to his yellow broken tenth. "I will save us from the light." His opened his snot wide to satisfy his hunger.

"No." Ollie whispered, unable to break the black tentacles. "The candy is not yours."

The broken teeth broke the crystallized sugar coat.

“NO.” Ollie shouted. “I believe in the candy, I believe it has the power to save me.”

The heart-shaped red candy, glowed bright purple then ignited in red flames.

The Old Pig choked and swallowed the fire.

In the blinding flames emanating from the heart-shaped candy.

His hands began to burn, to blaze in a fire that could not be contained.

"Stop! Stop, you ungrateful boy." The Old Pig roared the words in agony.

"Let go of the candy, you have to let go."

But the Old Pig could not let go of the candy, nor could he endure the pain of possessing it.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He spoke with black tears of darkness. "I want to save you, why do you torture me when all I want to do is save you."

"just let go." Ollie spoke feeling the black tentacles fading in the intense light. "You just have to drop the candy."

"Never." The Old Pig roared in agony. "It belongs to me."

"No." Ollie replied horrified. "It belongs to me."

The Old Pig's hands withered into gnarled, black appendages. However unbearable his agony was, his bony talons remained firm on the flaming treat.

"I beg you, please I don't deserve this." The Old Pig trembled, delirious in his unbearable agony. "I never did anything to deserve this."

Ollie could not answer, for on his countenance his horror had turned into judgment.

"You are choosing your pain." He spoke without antipathy or pity.

The Old Pig persisted, even in his delirious agony, he clung to the object of his pain seeking his salvation in that which destroyed him. Only at the end, when the unbearable became immeasurable, he let go of the sweet.

Making the sacrifice of his laceration into a purposeless joke of sorrow and pain.

Without thinking, without fear, Ollie extended his hand and took the incandescent treat.

He felt the warm heat, and the softness of its delicate layer of crystallized sugar.

There was no more fire, the candy lost its luminosity, and the candle lit up once more.

The Old Pig fell, cradling in an embrace the charked remains of his gaunt appendices. "What have you done?" He asked in tears of darkness. "What have you done, you stupid boy?"

https://i.imgur.com/iBCPYRR.jpeg [https://i.imgur.com/iBCPYRR.jpeg]

Ollie gave a sigh. "I'm going to look for the fifth house."

The Old Pig laughed, in pain and agony.

The candlelight flickered in the darkness of the Black House.

"You think you've won?" He waved his cadaverous ebony stumps. "There is no fifth house, not for you." he laughed in disgust. "You were born here, here you will stay."

Ollie wanted to answer something, wanted to show that he had won, but the spark of the candle betrayed the fragility of his conviction. He wanted to believe that his good dream was waiting for him, that the candy had the power to give him what he alone could not find.

There has to be a good dream.

Ollie stared at the delicate red candy with reverence, he could not believe in himself, but as long as he had the little heart, he could still believe in something.

He put the candy in his pocket, and turned without saying goodbye to the Old Pig.

"There is no other place, boy." The Old Pig shouted when he reached the door. "Wherever you go, you carry with you the Black House."

Ollie did not wait for the candle to lose its light.

He ran with his eyes fixed on the ground.

There was no courage to look back, no hope to see ahead.

Still his legs ran in search of a path.

In search of a path that his mind did not conceive to exist.