Haunted houses are rarely neat. If the House was truly haunted, then that haunting spilled out of its broken or boarded up windows, soaking into the fertile earth around it. The trees still grow, but the squirrels in their branches often feel the sudden need to bite each other in the eyes. Even if the cats from the block of flats made it into the trees, they may not be safe. But despite all of this, people still choose to live in those flats. They still hike in the woods. There are some who immediately feel safer, knowing that the House is there, and there are some who do not. For someone to be comfortable, another has to be uncomfortable. For someone
to feel safe, another has to be unsafe. And the one who is safe may not even be safe, they may just feel safe, up until the moment they don't. For someone, the majority, to prosper, another has to ... well. I think you understand what I am saying, and why. For a house to be built another has to be knocked down, converted, the occupants flushed out into the wilderness with nothing to hold on to. For one live organism to continue to exist, another live organism must stop existing all together.
The House sat, waiting for its girls.