Insect House

A slightly plump man steps into the courtyard, broom in hand, sweeping away fallen leaves with practiced ease. He pauses before the weathered plaque hanging above the door: "Insect House." His voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "Show yourselves now, or I'll turn you into fertilizer!" In this peculiar dwelling where nothing is as it seems, every shadow conceals a secret, and every corner harbors mysteries that crawl beneath the surface.