The Backwards House — Linda Hudson Hoagland

The backwards house across the street interested me from the moment I moved into my Stillwell County Habitat-built home. Rather than facing front with its door beckoning all to enter, the forbidding backside was foisted into my line of vision with no welcome mat displayed. That bothered me. The people who moved in and out of the backwards house were not the friendly sort. They appeared as neighbors usually during the wee hours of the morning, under the cover the darkness, moving in as quickly and as quietly as the circumstances would allow. Then suddenly they were gone. My little dog, Nikki, and my flower watering can were the props I used in order to play my own form of the childhood game of “hide and seek.” For some reason unknown to me, my family and friends started disappearing. My search for answers became a life-and-death struggle for survival.