It was there, I swear to you. On one of the sharp turns of the crumbking, barely there road hugging a steep hill, was the doll house. Life sized, a real house, it stood in a wooded crevice, half burned down but still quite there. It stood, whole, just burnt around the edges like how time can age and burn the edges of paper in very old books. The beige paint was chipped with age, covering a two story home that was the carnival freak show meets fairy tale version of the houses we drew as kids; square with a triangle on top. The trim was scalloped and featured painted tulips, yep, that's the fairy tale freak show part, a Hansel and Gretel replica rubbed black with embers from an unknown tragedy.
To be frank, it freaked me out. I had heard rumor of a haunted house in town called the doll house, so I decided this must be it. Just driving past it made your hair stand at end. The macabre in me wanted to go back and take pictures, as if to prove to the world, look what a creepy thing I found! But i couldn't do it, I was too chicken to go back on my own.
Months later, my husband suggested we go check it out. He was the scout without me, and came back and told me,"It is gone. I can't find it". Whaaaaaat? I demamded he take me down that street. I could find it, i insisted. I mean , on a nearly deserted dirt road with all of, what, 5, 10 houses, it wasn't hard to miss. So we embarked and went down the street slowly, both to be safe (it was a both ways but one way wide road with the forest taking it back) and to look for the damned house. We didn't see it, and we turned around and went back...nope...no doll house. No foundation or crumbling chimney, driveway, or even a flat clearing where a house could have been. Nothing. I had seem home ruins from fifty, hundred years ago that still showed some remnants of habilitation. nothing. nowhere a house could even have been. Nothing.
I am still seeking an explanation for this phenomenon.