The Abandoned House
By Lauryn Farragher 5th Class
Down Nessy’s lane way, a horrible wreck of a building stands tall and grim. No one has taken one step on this landscape since 1949 when times were good.
Up the lane way filthy and scraped, a huge willow tree is rotting while a tattered swing sways gently as if a child is swinging. The prickly bushes towering over the lane way are covered in sticky spiderwebs. The front porch is disastrous, the rocking chair is as dirty as a baby’s nappy. The doorbell is un-cared for and crooked. The hinges on the door are as rusty as an old barbeque. The paint peels and the door knob is as stiff as a punctured tyre. The windows are smashed with the glass hidden in the long grass, so if you dare walk through there is a chance you could step on the dagger like shards of glass. A flat soccer ball lies unused and destroyed from the lashing rain. A little girl’s pink bicycle sits menacingly on the porch, though now it is crusted in rust.
On entering the horrifying rat infested hallway, you can hear bone-chilling screams. The floorboards creak as you wander on. Under the stairs is a pair of purple devilish eyes staring as one walks past. The lights flicker as rapidly as a cheetah chasing its prey. Down the fearsome corridor there is a bathroom, It is said that a little girl once skipped in there and never returned. The only evidence that shows she was in there is her magenta satin ribbon, smeared in blood strewn across the bathroom floor. The carpet lies gnawed and damp in the hallway. A picture frame hangs forlornly, though the picture is gone, as if the dream is dead.
Moving on from the hallway is the kitchen; the countertop is covered with fungus and a knife lies smeared with fresh blood at the tap. A putrid stench of rotting food wafts from the disgusting unused fridge. The dining table sits in the corner of the room, unused and splintered. A stomach churning scene lies ahead. Spoilt lumpy milk stains the tiles just like a rotting carcase of a dead animal. Cupboards open and close when ever you dare take a step onwards. Glass is shattered all over the cracked tiles.
As one staggers up the steep and uneven staircase, it feels like it’s never going to end. The broken door of the parents bedroom points out that this room is a disaster waiting to occur. The bed sheets spread uncomfortably across the tattered mattress covered in red blood. A mirror stands sentry in the corner of this forgotten dragon’s nest. if you look closely you can just make out a shadow of a dead-looking figure. Next door is the children’s bedroom. On entering, one feels a shiver down their spine as dolls with ragged dresses, torn at the hem, their plaits tousled, they stare into your eyes with their marble -cold glass eyes as if they were alive. Walking through this horrid room, it feels as if there is someone behind you gently brushing your shoulders. Fingering the pierced bunk bed you hear screams coming from nowhere.
This tiresome structure is no joke. It is a bone chilling, spine-trembling monster house that has no good side. You would be surprised it used to be happy.