The village was completely silent.
No wind.
No whisper.
No fear.
Arman stood outside the old house.
He looked at the dark sky.
"Is it over?" he asked.
The boy's voice came very softly from inside his heart,
"Yes."
The house on the hill looked old and tired.
Like a sleeping giant.
The broken basement wall slowly closed by itself.
Crack…
Crack…
Dust covered the stone girl.
The village people were living normally.
But they would never remember the house.
Arman closed his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered.