The Deserted House - Original Essay

The Deserted House - Original Essay

I walked that road every day on my way to school, and had often

glanced at the house but that day I actually stopped to look at it

properly. I’m not sure what drew my attention to it, maybe it was the

creaking gate or the banging of the door at the end of the path as the

wind whistled through it into the house. Something drew me from the

pavement towards the overgrown privet hedge, which partially obscured

the rotting wooden gate, with the paint peeling from it. As I stepped

inside the gate I was astounded by just how unkept it was. The long

grass was a wilderness, filled with crisp packets and cans, and any

other rubbish that people felt like hurling over the hedge or gate.

There were the remains of an oriental take-away meal, which looked

like it had attracted rodents. As well as long grass, the wilderness

was full of thistles and there were dandelion seeds blowing

everywhere. The flowerbeds were now barely visible to the side of the

grass and filled with weeds and what was left of the hardwearing

perennials. After I had managed to make my way down the path, kicking

the litter to one side and trying to steer clear of the stinging

nettles, I was amazed to see that postmen and people who deliver

leaflets had actually wasted their time in delivering to that

obviously vacant address. The letterbox was overflowing, and the rest

was being blown around the path and garden by the wind. The free

newspapers were yellowing in the sun.

I took a couple of steps back to look more closely at the exterior of

the house, and I noticed just how neglected it was. From the road I

could see that there ...

... middle of paper ...

... closer look. When I had finished surveying the

garden I turned my attention back to the house, which had gone eerily

quiet. The front door was not banging anymore, there were no creaking

floorboards to be heard, and I could not hear the rustling of paper in

the hall. All that could be heard were the birds outside and the tap

dripping insistently. Feelings of guilt overcame me, I felt like I

should not have been there uninvited and that this was a sign for me

to leave. I moved swiftly to the front door and walked briskly out of

the house, pulling the front door behind me, up the path again, the

nettles already flattened from my first approach. When I reached the

gate I took one last look at the abandoned house, before taking that

final step onto the pavement and continuing my journey having

satisfied my curiosity.