Walking past a haunted house

I was returning home, it was noon. Clouds rolled over the city, the sky was gray, but it wasn't raining, it just smelled in the air. My dog Badi walked beside me, sniffing the edge of the sidewalk, content to still be outside.

The road to the house is always quiet, with gentle hills and a view that opens up as soon as you pass the last row of houses. That day, that view was particularly beautiful. The sky, the earth and the distances came together in a kind of quiet balance. And everything seemed somehow peaceful... except for one thing.

As I approached, I passed by that house again.

You know that feeling when you're drawn to something, even though you don't know why? That house has it. It seems abandoned at first glance, old walls, overgrown with greenery, almost as if nature tried to take it back to itself. But the grass was cut. Fresh. Someone was there. Not yesterday. Today.

I stopped for a moment. The view from that point is unreal, as if you are looking at another world, calmer and further away. I sent a look through the window of that house, which was dark and empty, but it seemed to me that something... was looking back.

Badi barked. No one was there, but his hair stood on end. Sometimes I think dogs see more than we do.

We moved on. The house was still there, motionless and silent. And the view... beautiful. As a contrast to what I felt looking at her.

Maybe it's just an ordinary house. And maybe... something is waiting to come back.