So, here it is:

My first ever attempt at publishing any writing of mine on the internet.

This was originally the introduction of a piece of English coursework, but I thought this would be good to get feedback on from people...

I'm still new to all this, so no very harsh reviews.


The green pool was still. Lifeless. Disguised by the autumn leaves of the sycamore trees. Beyond the pool of envy and greed, a hard- beaten path is unveiled.

The sunlight fell along the path, past the animals, beyond the trees. Beyond the bunkhouse.

A small bird followed the soft, sleep-inducing light. Out of the trance, the bird found itself hovering over a run- down broken house.

Not a home- a house.

The outside sun shone brightly, yet all light had been filtered out by the curtains and refused to furnish the dark and dingy room. So the room remained gloomy and grave-like.

There were layers of paint, wallpaper… more paint. Each layer could be peeled away to reveal hidden secrets. Skeletons in her closet. But, the layers remain unpeeled and the secrets remain undiscovered.

Stories untold.

Colours of the rainbow danced together on the canvas, then merged to form a confused blur.

Amongst the haze of reds, purples and blues, in the corner of the room, was a tin of paint.

It had passed its expiry date…

Perhaps someone had finally given up redecorating. Refurnishing.

Reinventing.

The walls were otherwise empty in the run- down doll's house. There was a small, square window, heavily disguised with a layer of floral yellowing net curtains. The curtains rattled with the lightest wind. Easy to break. Snap- like the bones of an ageing woman.

The walls displayed no pictures. No identity. This was probably not a family home. All that hung there was a small, square, slightly crooked, mirror.

A moth- eaten rug lay in the middle of the room, disguising only half of the dark, wooden floorboards. The floorboards creaked noisily, as the rocking chair swung back and forth. Back and forth.

It never stops.