This is my first attempt at writing a story for other people to see. I don't think it's very good, but I was wondering what other people thought. This story isn't based on anything, it was just something that I had to write in my English class – please keep in mind that this is written from the point of view of the house, I know it's an odd concept, but it just popped into my head and I ran with it.
I don't believe it! Those vagabonds have done it; they've actually dared to abuse me. I warned them – they knew what would happen – and they still did it. I could feel every smash of every window, the stabbing of the nails holding up the boards attempting to seal my wounds. They pulled out my hair, and they scratched my face. They turned me upside-down and inside-out. They let the grass grow and impale me further. The boughs of the trees were left to continue shattering my bones.
I was so beautiful once all "done up to the nines" as they say. My make-up was immaculate, with not a single slate out of place; I had paint so luxurious that kings would stop and say, 'Why couldn't my palace be as statuesque as that house, it is not fair.' – They were very prone to tantrums in those days. Back then I always had fires blazing to high heaven and back in every grate of every room; and the grass and the trees were primped and pruned everyday and every night. That was when Gregory was here, he was so kind to me, he loved me. But then he left one day and never came back, he never came home to the one he loved. And now this. They won't get away with it; I'll make sure of it.
They'll regret they day they were ever born, all of them! I know some of them; the ones that I knew had such upstanding characters, or so I thought. There was Kitty – she was the first replacement for Greg and in my opinion she wasn't very good; she was so, so boring because she never talked to me, it was like she didn't know I existed even though it was me she was supposed to be taking care of. Next was Douglas – he was completely hopeless; always to-ing and fro-ing, never content with where he was at any time in the day. When I was in my prime people would never dream of questioning their job or where it was taking place, especially when it took place within a house as astonishing as me. Cynthia followed in the queue – she was much better; she reminded me of Gregory, so kind and careful, she made sure I was always okay. She watered my garden, and cleaned my lake (at least that's what I call it; everyone else misinterprets it and calls it a pond, I couldn't begin to understand why). I could never do anything to her, although she was a bit careless with fire; she told me one day that she was having a bonfire and she had invited some people who had invited some other people etcetera – it was only a few minutes away which meant I could hear what was going on – and I suddenly heard this boom and a chorus of screeching noises that hurt my delicate ears, and I never saw Cynthia again. After her it all went downhill, Timothy, Melissa, and Zachary, then no-one.
I know a lot of people say this, but I would genuinely like your reviews if you feel like posting one - I'm pretty much just doing this to see what people think of my writing and to improve as much as I can - WingsXx :) xx