The House

The tall tress bind and sway ever so slightly. I can't feel the air.
But I can feel the energytossing around inside me. I feel weight
on my shoulders, I shake it off and continue to enjoy myself
amongst the trees. A sparkle comes into our hopeless eyes,
and its nice to know that there's still little things like that in todays
modern society. I wield the pen like a sword,it is my weapon,
my feelings, my protection. We show up to a house of promised
hopes. It is a house alike the other. Comfort seems to live here,
although difficult to find in such a strange place.
 

The living room opens up as just five or six recliners of cheap fabric.
A T.V. sits not far from them on a small vintage table. The room
turns eerie as the elders sit like vegetables, eyes frozen on the
television.  Not watching the surroundings, just the T.V,

And that was all the world they needed to know.

 

I walk past on the plastic marble floors, entering the kitchen. There's
some familiarity in this room . It feels as if life lives in there, spirits cook,
talking, laughing, enjoying each others company. But, it is empty, my favorite
room in the house so far. You can smell the fried chicken, grease, corn on the
cob, steak, cookies, cakes. Almost can lick the frosting off your lips.
Scooting down the hall to a wooden door with an ancient rusted tin number three.
 

The wood is stained with an utterly repulsive substance. Turning the knob with a light
creak, as the disturbing room opens up in front of me. One window, covered in
a terrible orange shade. Twin beds, sit on either side of the room, with what looks
like an itchy, dirty, old thick blanket. The little white flowers lay on the green leaves
stand out on the bed's blanket. The tan walls create and unsettling darkness to the room.
 

Such a sad room, I thought.
 

No life lives here, no spirits roam against the stale air. I stand with horrible posture
gazing into the room searching for comfort in a room so depressingly small. One
single, tiny end table slouches in between the beds. Looks like it as well is old and
elderly. peeking through the orange shade over the window I see only a gloomy
backyard. Can't picture kids playing, dogs running rampant, families gathering.

 

Such a sad house, I thought.

Author's Note

Your right it doesn't have any taste but its not supposed to. There is no taste. It's... just a sad little house...

Reviews

[Vanessa]

This is nice.
But I wish there was something to look forward to, something to give it substance. Because I was waiting for something, a twist, anything. But it just sort of went. It keeps you drinking the water without really tasting anything.

It does have a nice flow, though.