A House
Across a narrow street from a busy highway viaduct, there was a house.
The bricks of the house were painted dark blue. On the right side of the doors, people kicking snow off their boots had chipped away at the paint, revealing the original rusty red. There was also a little stained glass window, with a fleur-de-lis bulging out in the middle, from which a few pieces had gone missing. On the left side, there was a bay window, off-white, with oak shutters. The doors were oak too, with a green copper knocker, and there was a diamond-patterned window in the arch above.
The vestibule was a dark, dusty room, with orange walls and a tile-patterned linoleum floor. A mirror, speckled with paint stains, hung on the right wall. The doors into the hallway were fitted with large, linear stained glass windows.
The hallway floors were varnished softwood, but like all the floors in the house, they were covered with the claw marks of excited dogs. At the end of the hall stood an immense mirror. It had been converted from a window, and it took up nearly all the space on its wall.
The living room hosted two beige leather couches, a black armchair, and a modern red chaise longue. In front of the bay window stood a television set. It had white marks and dents on top, from when the ceiling had collapsed. On top of one bookcase was a collection of brass kettles, and on top of the other were family photos. Facing the door was an oak mantelpiece, which towered over a bright yellow brick fireplace. Where once had been logs, there was now an electric imitation fire, and a dog bed which matched the couches.
The dining room, attached to the living room with a square archway, was a blood red colour. Dark brown plate rails supported a collection of ornate plates, and sinister candelabra held up half-consumed candles. Around the window were cobwebs and unplugged Christmas lights which had been left all year. In the western corner of the room, on the floor, were a pair of African drums, one of which had a broken top; in the southern corner stood a blue armchair, whose upholstery had been shredded by a cat; and in the eastern corner stood a “Funhouse” pinball machine, its bright and colourful lights flashing silently in the dark and empty room.
Now, across the street from a busy highway viaduct, there is no house.
Written By: Colin Golding
