Once Upon a Dark Dreary Night...
The House.
I walked along the dark, dreary streets, rivulets of rain rushing down my flushed cheeks, slowly dripping down my shirt line and staining my clothes with invisible spots.
The dark night was illuminated shortly by a great flash of bright light. Nothing seemed to phase me as the water pasted my thin brown hair to my neck and face as I slowly walked my way down the deserted road.
Where had I strode off to? Was anyone looking for me? What exactly happened?
I stopped with the toes of my shoes at the beginning of some steps. The dark wood seemed to get darker as the lightning struck down and the wind seemed to pick up in sound and speed. It was practically screaming at me at that point.
My hair whipped harshly at my face, batting me in my eyes; the frigid droplets nipped at my skin; goose bumps adorned my body, causing my skin to become tight and taught in the freezing weather.
I closed my dull green eyes as I slowly lifted a soaked sneaker and stepped upon the first stair. It seemed to sigh with me, and with each step I took, the sighs of the steps seemed to get louder, heavier, and almost weary.
This is where I would usually feel anxiety, fear, and even restlessness. No, not this time. This time, nothing. I felt no timidness, my heart didn’t pick up a beat, and my legs did not rush to move into any source of light.
My hand met with a rusty, cold doorknob, no sight of the door it adorned though, only darkness. This is where my reactions really should have kicked in. Quickened heartbeat, pounding drums in my temples, paranoia.
Nothing. Not a feeling swept over me as I simply stepped into the dark house, the wind harshly pulling the door shut behind me.
Lightning struck again, a great, angry roar soon to follow, but no weariness crept over me. I remained placid as I scanned the room with stone eyes.
The house seemed to have a natural light all on its own. Not really needing a fearsome light to bring it to life.
And life it needed. The room, however dimly lit, was dull and worn. As if the outside weather had waged its war in the room long before taking its dispute outside.
The dark curtains hung like loose rags over the dark windows. They seemed to have had some sort of color, long ago and much before my time. Maybe a navy blue, could’ve been a deep purple, even possibly a soft, warm brown. But now, they hung in tatters. Nothing but washed out color that was now more of a dull, dark shade rather than a color.
My gaze shifted around the room, any emotion yet to bubble up in the confides of my being. I saw little but a small oriental styled carpet, faded scarlet and bronze decorated the limp cloth. It seemed to have seen better days and much better visitors than that of an out-of-date teen.
I moved my gaze, again, from the old, rotting floor, adorned with so much dust I could taste it to a rickety staircase. In my usual state of mind, I would have instantly turned from the house, much less enthused to see what the mysterious stairs held beyond them. I, however, felt much too tired and worn to let my cowardice mind control me; my heart was taking the reins for once.
The inside steps weren’t any different from those of outside; they groaned, screeched, and seemed to sigh under my weight.
Such an old house. It seemed to cry; to call out to me in hopes for my company. It was a lonely house, in definite need of a tenant.
At the top of the whiny staircase, was a single hallway, its floors adorned with a twin to the rug downstairs. Only, this one was longer, covering the entire long floor, all on its own.
Where the worn rug ended, was a doorway. This one was white, the painted chipping at the corners and beginning to fray toward the center as well. The doorknob was as rusty as the front door’s, also chipping its own kind of polish.
I wrapped my large palm around the object, engulfing it, before attempting to turn it.
Locked.
With a sigh and much less discontent than I would have imagined. I turned around and abandoned the lone, locked door without so much as a second try.
Once back down the steps - which seemed to be angry with my lack of vigor - I noticed a door on my right. This door seemed to be wooden, and matched the light, steely, blue that had over taken the rotting wood of the ancient house.
As I walked toward this door, I felt as if I might get something this time.
I turned the rusted handle and let myself into what looked to be a kitchen. There was a stove, however rusty and seemingly abandoned; the counters ached to have a nice wash as the guilty dirt, dust and God knows what else collected on the chipping plastic covering.
I looked across the floor, the debris of uncoming linoleum, wood, and other things littering the floor. As I made my way across the room to yet another door, I couldn’t help but notice a small silhouette that seemingly belonged to a rodent.
I twisted yet another rusty, crusty handle, just to be met with harsh winds and nipping droplets. The clouds stirred angrily in the distance and I thought little of it as I closed the door back and made my way back to the front room.
I looked around at the dying walls, the boring staircase, and the decaying front door. As I scanned the room, another door not far off in the corner caught my eye.
It was the newest looking thing in the whole place The handle shimmered in the odd light, and the door seemed painted anew; scarlet.
I’m not sure if it was curiosity, or just plain lack of common sense that got me to open that door, but what lay beyond it did not bore me like the rest of the decaying old house had.
There was a great four-poster canopy bed with red satin sheets, feathered down pillows, and soft bronze curtains. The wardrobe looked newly carved and the chausseur drawers even had a large vanity mirror stretched atop of it. The golden frame glinted, as the doorhandle had, and my eyes caught something in the mirror.
A pale girl lay on the bed. She looked to be simply asleep, her arms folded across her chest and her ankles doing the same. She wore an elegant, yet modest, white nightgown; her blonde hair lay in rivulets around her, reminding me of the sun I wished had come out that day. As I stared, though, my curiosity began to grow erratically.
Slowly, step-by-step, I walked toward the bed, noticing how not only did the floor boards cry and groan less under my weight, but also that my emotions were slowly crashing down, growing faintly in my chest.
As my eye took in the girl’s beautiful face, all the emotions I had failed to feel clashed in my chest all at once. Fear, dread, utter curiosity, and that instinctual feeling to just stay away. Her eyelids fluttered slightly and my legs took the feelings as a warning.
I began to run.
Out the emaculent bedroom, through the creaky main room, into the kitchen, and out the “back door”. I had no idea why all of the feelings suddenly over flowed, why I suddenly ran, or why the girl popping up in the bed and grabbing me ran through my mind.
As I ran, I almost ran right into a barbed wire fence that I hadn’t noticed before.
I quickly put my hand on the rotting wooden post and launched myself over.
My pants leg caught on the wire and I almost face planted right into the dying grass, but quickly caught myself. I didn’t bother trying to free my pants, but instead, in my haste, I simply ripped my leg away; tearing nearly half of my pant leg off.
As I ran through the open field, my sense of direction basically shot dead. I looked back at the house, and watched as the cloth of my pants blew in the light breeze that began to pick up.
I began to run again, however, when a light flicked on in the house and the thunder boomed again.
The dark night was illuminated shortly by a great flash of bright light. Nothing seemed to phase me as the water pasted my thin brown hair to my neck and face as I slowly walked my way down the deserted road.
Where had I strode off to? Was anyone looking for me? What exactly happened?
I stopped with the toes of my shoes at the beginning of some steps. The dark wood seemed to get darker as the lightning struck down and the wind seemed to pick up in sound and speed. It was practically screaming at me at that point.
My hair whipped harshly at my face, batting me in my eyes; the frigid droplets nipped at my skin; goose bumps adorned my body, causing my skin to become tight and taught in the freezing weather.
I closed my dull green eyes as I slowly lifted a soaked sneaker and stepped upon the first stair. It seemed to sigh with me, and with each step I took, the sighs of the steps seemed to get louder, heavier, and almost weary.
This is where I would usually feel anxiety, fear, and even restlessness. No, not this time. This time, nothing. I felt no timidness, my heart didn’t pick up a beat, and my legs did not rush to move into any source of light.
My hand met with a rusty, cold doorknob, no sight of the door it adorned though, only darkness. This is where my reactions really should have kicked in. Quickened heartbeat, pounding drums in my temples, paranoia.
Nothing. Not a feeling swept over me as I simply stepped into the dark house, the wind harshly pulling the door shut behind me.
Lightning struck again, a great, angry roar soon to follow, but no weariness crept over me. I remained placid as I scanned the room with stone eyes.
The house seemed to have a natural light all on its own. Not really needing a fearsome light to bring it to life.
And life it needed. The room, however dimly lit, was dull and worn. As if the outside weather had waged its war in the room long before taking its dispute outside.
The dark curtains hung like loose rags over the dark windows. They seemed to have had some sort of color, long ago and much before my time. Maybe a navy blue, could’ve been a deep purple, even possibly a soft, warm brown. But now, they hung in tatters. Nothing but washed out color that was now more of a dull, dark shade rather than a color.
My gaze shifted around the room, any emotion yet to bubble up in the confides of my being. I saw little but a small oriental styled carpet, faded scarlet and bronze decorated the limp cloth. It seemed to have seen better days and much better visitors than that of an out-of-date teen.
I moved my gaze, again, from the old, rotting floor, adorned with so much dust I could taste it to a rickety staircase. In my usual state of mind, I would have instantly turned from the house, much less enthused to see what the mysterious stairs held beyond them. I, however, felt much too tired and worn to let my cowardice mind control me; my heart was taking the reins for once.
The inside steps weren’t any different from those of outside; they groaned, screeched, and seemed to sigh under my weight.
Such an old house. It seemed to cry; to call out to me in hopes for my company. It was a lonely house, in definite need of a tenant.
At the top of the whiny staircase, was a single hallway, its floors adorned with a twin to the rug downstairs. Only, this one was longer, covering the entire long floor, all on its own.
Where the worn rug ended, was a doorway. This one was white, the painted chipping at the corners and beginning to fray toward the center as well. The doorknob was as rusty as the front door’s, also chipping its own kind of polish.
I wrapped my large palm around the object, engulfing it, before attempting to turn it.
Locked.
With a sigh and much less discontent than I would have imagined. I turned around and abandoned the lone, locked door without so much as a second try.
Once back down the steps - which seemed to be angry with my lack of vigor - I noticed a door on my right. This door seemed to be wooden, and matched the light, steely, blue that had over taken the rotting wood of the ancient house.
As I walked toward this door, I felt as if I might get something this time.
I turned the rusted handle and let myself into what looked to be a kitchen. There was a stove, however rusty and seemingly abandoned; the counters ached to have a nice wash as the guilty dirt, dust and God knows what else collected on the chipping plastic covering.
I looked across the floor, the debris of uncoming linoleum, wood, and other things littering the floor. As I made my way across the room to yet another door, I couldn’t help but notice a small silhouette that seemingly belonged to a rodent.
I twisted yet another rusty, crusty handle, just to be met with harsh winds and nipping droplets. The clouds stirred angrily in the distance and I thought little of it as I closed the door back and made my way back to the front room.
I looked around at the dying walls, the boring staircase, and the decaying front door. As I scanned the room, another door not far off in the corner caught my eye.
It was the newest looking thing in the whole place The handle shimmered in the odd light, and the door seemed painted anew; scarlet.
I’m not sure if it was curiosity, or just plain lack of common sense that got me to open that door, but what lay beyond it did not bore me like the rest of the decaying old house had.
There was a great four-poster canopy bed with red satin sheets, feathered down pillows, and soft bronze curtains. The wardrobe looked newly carved and the chausseur drawers even had a large vanity mirror stretched atop of it. The golden frame glinted, as the doorhandle had, and my eyes caught something in the mirror.
A pale girl lay on the bed. She looked to be simply asleep, her arms folded across her chest and her ankles doing the same. She wore an elegant, yet modest, white nightgown; her blonde hair lay in rivulets around her, reminding me of the sun I wished had come out that day. As I stared, though, my curiosity began to grow erratically.
Slowly, step-by-step, I walked toward the bed, noticing how not only did the floor boards cry and groan less under my weight, but also that my emotions were slowly crashing down, growing faintly in my chest.
As my eye took in the girl’s beautiful face, all the emotions I had failed to feel clashed in my chest all at once. Fear, dread, utter curiosity, and that instinctual feeling to just stay away. Her eyelids fluttered slightly and my legs took the feelings as a warning.
I began to run.
Out the emaculent bedroom, through the creaky main room, into the kitchen, and out the “back door”. I had no idea why all of the feelings suddenly over flowed, why I suddenly ran, or why the girl popping up in the bed and grabbing me ran through my mind.
As I ran, I almost ran right into a barbed wire fence that I hadn’t noticed before.
I quickly put my hand on the rotting wooden post and launched myself over.
My pants leg caught on the wire and I almost face planted right into the dying grass, but quickly caught myself. I didn’t bother trying to free my pants, but instead, in my haste, I simply ripped my leg away; tearing nearly half of my pant leg off.
As I ran through the open field, my sense of direction basically shot dead. I looked back at the house, and watched as the cloth of my pants blew in the light breeze that began to pick up.
I began to run again, however, when a light flicked on in the house and the thunder boomed again.