Sometimes to be at home is like a nightmare by Stephen King.
We call it __ack home__nowing full well that the majority of us may never go back. That we may spend but a handful of weeks in the tropic heat and relentless traffic,tolerating family members we may have convincedourselves to have missed, but very few will submit to that final pull to return. We know our land, our soil as back home, but for many of usit is only the home we left back,the one we left so far behind to be thrust into a lifelong searchof another, of another, of another.
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We call it __ack home__nowing full well that the majority of us may never go back. That we may spend but a handful of weeks in the tropic heat and relentless traffic,tolerating family members we may have convincedourselves to have missed, but very few will submit to that final pull to return. We know our land, our soil as back home, but for many of usit is only the home we left back,the one we left so far behind to be thrust into a lifelong searchof another, of another, of another.
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Maybe this isn't home, nor ever was- maybe home is where I have to go tonight. Home is the place where when you go there, you have to finally face the thing in the dark.
Although terrifying, the evil ghost will probably pose no real danger to you or your family. On the other hand, if you have a demonic infestation, your entire household is in very real danger. A demonic entity will not usually confront you or induce you to flee the home. Because, unlike the evil ghost, the demon does not actually want you to leave. On the contrary, it wants you to stick around so it can destroy your life and sully your soul from the inside.
Do we take less pride in the possession of our home because its walls were built by some unknown carpenter, its tapestries woven by some unknown weaver on a far Oriental shore, in some antique time? No. We show our home to our friends with the pride as if it were our home, which it is. Why then should we take less pride when reading a book written by some long-dead author? Is it not our book just as much, or even more so, than theirs? So the landowner says, __ook at my beautiful home! Isn__ it fine?_ And not, __ook at the home so-and-so has built._ Thus we shouldn__ cry, __ook what so-and-so has written. What a genius so-and-so is!_ But rather, __ook at what I have read! Am I not a genius? Have I not invented these pages? The walls of this universe, did I not build? The souls of these characters, did I not weave?
Here. There. Everywhere. Somewhere. Home.
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.