37 Crestentview Lane was the presence of Fairview Hills, a small yet quiet village in northern Maine. The ancient Victorian building stands atop the highest hill, watching over the town. A stereotype; the house held the reputation of being cursed as the local parents scorned their curious children for going near it. Local legend has it that three people died while building the foundation, a tale that the last owners of the house did not believe. That was, until 1971 when the owners commissioned a contracting company to redo the shingling. Two workers fell to their death; with another going into permanent psychosis, mumbling about “a great sacrifice”.

        Abandoning the house after their daughter went missing the same year as the accident, the house’s last owners hurriedly left the village of Fairview Hills. Many realtors took it upon themselves to sell the house, failing as each tour was left with suspicion and rumors. It was then when 37 Crestentview Lane was left sitting; absently rotting atop of the hill for 50 years.

        That was when the Breswald family acquired the house in 2021 through the government’s nationwide holding site. They heard great things about the village- no crime in the last 50 years, and a great lobster market the family could take their business upon. 

Like the house’s reputation, it was a stereotypical situation: a mother, a father, and two kids. Delilah and Azure, the beaming daughters that held the glory of being the inheritance of the Breswald family fortune through their Arizona corporation. Delilah grew as the only child until she was 10 when Azure was born, the crown of the family. Now 19, Delilah reluctantly agreed to the move. After all, it was one of the only ways she could acquire and keep the family fund. 

        “You done daydreaming yet?” 

        Azure howled in the ear of a non-suspecting Delilah. The bus ride to the house was filled with this constant bickering; Delilah mentally wandering off and being interrupted by Azure’s remarks or insistence of brushing her long black hair.

        “Quit it, girls. We’re here.” Sniped their father from two seats away, who had been quiet most of the ride from the airport.

        Like a dolly zoom, the house slowly came into sight. Being the infamous crown of the snowy village’s livelihood, it left a dark shadow over the town. As they pulled up to the stair line, the bus came to a screeching halt. The tall pillars loomed over Delilah as she peered at the empty windows through the bus’s tinted glass. 

        The construction team, who has been refurbishing the house for the Breswalds, greeted the charmed family as they made their way out of the bus. Leading them through the Grand Entryway, the Victorian house engulfed them, the aroma of fresh linen filling Delilah’s nostrils. As the family and the construction team conversed about how perfect their new little town was, they enjoyed peering around, smiling as they admired the handiwork of the team’s repairs and restorations.

        When the rest of the family went left atop the Grand Staircase, Delilah went right. Immediately, she stopped in her tracks to take in the new room that awaited her. The space quickly surrounded her, filled with thousands of books and spiral staircases that seemed to go up forever. It was heaven, she thought. Delilah began running up the metal spiral staircase, taking in the scent of old books and vintage furniture. She grabbed books that she deemed interesting as she ran through corners of the old library. 

        After probably an hour of reading on a bay window in the corner of the darkly-lit room, Delilah stretched her stiff joints and saw a glimmer in her peripheral vision. She tossed the blue-bound book that she was reading to the side and slowly made her way off of the window and to the section that carried the glistening feat. She was entranced, whispers filling her ears as she felt enticed to pick up the golden book that was sitting vacantly atop a wooden barrel on the opposite side of the library. 

        “What could you be?” Delilah asked as she gently picked up the cold book, turning it in her hands. Curious, she opened it to the first page. Blank. How odd, she thought. Rolling her eyes, she put the book down, page first, and heard a large thunder behind a bookshelf. Stumbling backward, Delilah watched in awe as the bookshelf behind the barrel moved open; revealing a damply-lit staircase that went up. Puzzled, she stepped through the entryway, hesitantly going up the stairs. Reaching the top took about a minute, and Delilah found herself within one of the house’s pillars, peering over the edge. 

        “Guess I found the way into the watchtower,” Delilah snickered as she put her hand up to her chin and leaned onto the railing.

        Rustling behind her, “Not exactly,” A voice retorted. And in a flash, Delilah Jane Breswald was taken. 

        37 Crestentview Lane was the presence of Fairview Hills, a small village in northern Maine. Inside it lies a vast secret. Yet sentient- the house captures its dues. In a sacrifice remains a hope for all: a great lobster harvest, and most importantly, safety in the village for the next fifty years.