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The House; A short story based on an old thought.
Topic Started: Feb 6 2008, 01:38 PM (408 Views)
CyborgDragon
Brackenwood Lightweight
The House, Part One

Quote:
 
    The man, in black jeans and maroon t-shirt, walked up to the house with a rectangular box on his shoulder. A cone extended and retracted on the front of the box, and a bent tube extending from the side is pressed against his eye; and as the man's frown deepened and eyebrows furrowed, the picture, shining through the tube, blurred, only to come back in to focus. The picture was moving as the man moved, and depicted the house.
    The house, with an aged hay-thatch roof that had holes in it and had an ancient stone foundation, was surrounded by wild-grown wheat, tall as pine saplings but nowhere near as thick. The sunlight, reflecting off the golden wheat, lit up the only window on the house, revealing a Pagan pentagram stained on the window. It was blood red.
    Turning the camera to his face—he had brown hair with strips of gray showing, and had hazel green-gray eyes—the man said, "As you can see, s..." A loud crackle shattered the reality of the man on the screen of the brown box with two antennae sticking out of the top. Glass littered the floor, and crisscrossed several cracks ran through the television that had just exploded.
    Suddenly a boy, by the looks of it, ten or twelve, ran towards the man, a different man, panting in shock on the forest green reclining couch in front of the tube. The boy, apparently scared, screamed "Dad! What happened?" Suddenly the man's rough hand snatched the boy into the air and sat him on to the couch. Afterwards, the man stalked outside and slammed the door.
    Outside, the man cursed God, the world, and, oddly enough, his employees. "I watched that video three times. It is meant to be a report on the lands so I can build a factory! My best camera man vanished, no ran away, probably afraid of those silly old rumors! 'It's cursed,' they say. 'You'll die,' they say. To Hell with what they say!" After he finished ranting, the man turned around to go back into the house, and stopped. His son, staring up at him with his mother's blue eyes, was standing there in shock and fear.
    "D-dad, maybe it is h-haunte—"
    The father cut in growling and breathless, "Go to your room! Right now! I don't need to be hearing all that from you!" After this he stalked into the house past his son, almost knocking him against the door frame, and sat on the couch, eyes staring at nothing in deep thought.
    Inside his room, littered with wooden and plastic toys from years passed, and newer electronic toys that were just coming into style, the boy, in a red vest over a white shirt and brown jeans, stared out his window, pouting. It wasn't the first time he thought of unlatching that window, but this time he was going to carry through and run away. Maybe I should go to that abandoned house, he thought.


So, tell me your thoughts on the story so far.
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