(...A Small dilapidated house, Somewhere between Normandy and Paris France...
The old dilapidated and derelict house stands empty, silent and abandoned in and overgrown garden that was once as beautiful as the house long ago in ages past. Though the undergrowth hides it well in small spares areas there can still be seen a white picket fence of wood rotted through and weatherworn with age and an empty space where its gate once stood now rotted and fallen to pieces upon the stone walkway that passes for the gardens path as well as the street outside. The windows, what were left of them in this two story small house lay shattered and broken and boarded up, though not well, for if one had a mind to enter one could using minimal force to gain entry. If one looked through the windows where one could see within they would find inside the dank and rotted furniture that still lies within the building.
Inside the house
When one stands on the threshold, one sees in front of them a stair leading upwards to the second tier of the building. To the right is the entrance leading to what was once considered the main living area or living room of the house. It's fireplace standing empty and long unused. Off shot of that is another opening which leads into the derelict kitchen and backdoor of the building. To ones left is what would have been the dining room, laundry room and cloak room where one would have hung up their coat and placed ones dirty shoes if they were asked to remove them to keep the flooring clean of mud or dirt. It seemed that only the living room was carpeted though its carpets and what seemed to be a Persian rug were long dank and smelling of rot and mildew. Even the kitchen held ancient rotted food which no longer gave off a scent it had been there so long. In cupboards and cabinets and the sink lay broken or dirt encrusted dishes, plates, cups ect.
The Stairwell
The rickety stairs could still be walked up though they too were rotting and creaking but still passable for ascent if one was careful of how they went up them. It's banister was broken in places so the use of it had to be done with the greatest of care. At the top of the stairs lay a second small tier that led to an attic door that held a rusted unlocked bolt with padlock hanging from it. Further onward there appeared to be two rooms. One filled with furnishings that one assumed someone had once held in great esteem. Old moth eaten coverlets and curtains and woman's clothing lay scattered around the room. The rotted wood of drawers or cupboards also lay scattered and fallen wherever they lay. The only other room stood empty and unused as if waited to be furnished.
At the top of the small second tier of stairs lay the attic door of which one had to pull very hard for it to open due to rusted hinges and warped weatherworn wood. Inside this dank mildewed room lay an empty cradle in pieces, a mattress upon the floor full of holes due to rats and mice and whatever animals used it for a home of their own. The room was sparse and almost empty same for old mildews books and pieces of paper. This room alone held windows that were still intact for they were boarded shut so that no light could enter save through small spaces in the slates. This room was a prison or had been once long ago. The only other thing of interest inside was the unusual panel inside the wall itself, one that if closed blended in so seamlessly that it went unnoticed secret...
Who's home was this? Or rather who's was it? This was the question. Who had the madwoman been that had once been its keeper and what secret had she once held here in this ruined derelict house which stands on the outskirts of some unknown village somewhere between Normandy and Paris France. And where was this unknown survivor? Were one to ask the townspeople one would be told that it had once been the home of a monster born of the mad woman. A monster with its devils face and Angels old dilapidated and derelict house stands empty, silent and abandoned in and overgrown garden that was once as beautiful as the house long ago in ages past. Though the undergrowth hides it well in small spares areas there can still be seen a white picket fence of wood rotted through and weatherworn with age and an empty space where its gate once stood now rotted and fallen to pieces upon the stone walkway that passes for the gardens path as well as the street outside. The windows, what were left of them in this two story small house lay shattered and broken and boarded up, though not well, for if one had a mind to enter one could using minimal force to gain entry. If one looked through the windows where one could see within they would find inside the dank and rotted furniture that still lies within the building.