Descriptive Essay On A Cold House

The wind chime hung from the roof of the abandoned house , it swayed calmly and slowly against the wind , everything seemed peaceful . We - my father and I - sat on the porch of the rundown house that only we knew about . It was dark and I wasn’t the biggest fan of the night , the night is unpredictable but yet so beautiful .

The day was dark. I could feel a storm approaching. The gentle sunlight glistening through the clouds, now covered by a heavy mist. Drop. Drop. Drop. The coldness of the water tinged my face. And the earth shook, as a large boom erupted from the sky followed by a light crackle. By now, I was soaked, like that night. I continued walking through the deserted streets when a large flash erupted from the sky. Oh, great lightning, today was getting better and better. A woman and her young child was running towards their car to seek shelter. The walk was a long and dreadful one, I found myself looking at the place I left 15 years ago. The house was still dark and foreboding as ever, the shutters hanging off its hinges and the roof in a state of disrepair.

Imagine, if you will, a brisk night wind coming fast across a lake carrying a pungent smell, something you can’t quite identify, but is nonetheless familiar enough to send a shiver up your spine. As it hits the trees, they creak out a somber call in the still night air. Or was that groan something more…human? You notice, for the first time, the absence of tires humming on pavement and you wonder if it’s that late, or maybe just a slow night. The soft tapping of your shoes on the sidewalk is the only accompaniment your slow breathing has as you move towards the warmth of your home, holding thoughts of a warm bed in the palm of your hand to keep the chill away. You don’t notice at first, perhaps because the reality of what you’re hearing is

The evening was ominous and gray. The cold wind blew softly, and carried a heavy scent of blood through the streets. A loud intense screech pierced the ears of its listener, leaving the body trembling in fear.

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

I hobble up to my husband’s grave, last time I was here, I could barely see the headstone through the crowd of people I didn’t know. I left the funeral early, it was too much for me to handle. The cold air nipped at my boney hands, and the tip of my nose. I can barely make it through the snow without tripping. It is worth it just to talk to him. The smell of death reaches my nose before I make it over the tiny hill, his grave is just at the top. I stumble over a tree root covered by snow, and I catch myself just in time with my nobby wooden cane.

Rain poured on me as I walked home. I was all soaked and as usual, I was alone. It was close to night, and I lived in Del Mar. The other kids walked on the other side of the sidewalk gossiping and insulting me under their breaths, but I tried to not let the voices get to my head. I just kept treading forward. I got to the streetlights and made my across the street to go hike up the hill that leads to my house. My tucked my hands in my jacket pockets and positioned my head down to the dark, paved, and quiet street.

We turn down a road that quickly turns into a dirt one. The road was very rough and rugged. There were pot holes everywhere and when you think there was no more it would start up again. The car jerked and jumped and swayed every which way. At one point my head nearly touched the roof, thats how bad the holes and bumps are. The trees curve inward, giving it an arch appearance. It blanketed the road with ominous shadows. The shadows start moving again, not from the wind, but from whatever was hiding among them. Up a little ways I could see a small cabin.

The condensed snow under my feet was crushed with every step. The snow was around four inches deep, my boots made a large enough indent, that I made a noticeable trail of holes with every step. The sun had vanished behind a mountain, the sky’s light had gone from an amiable orange, to a mellow blue. I could see outline of the moon between two clouds, and the air’s bite grew colder by the moment. I had taken a detour, past a thin slice of trees near to my neighborhood. Even for a forest, it was a cold, silent place. I used to come out to places like this as a kid, quiet places where I would sit and be alone for hours. I guess I forgot how often that was, but for the moment, I had something else to worry about.

I hear a clap of thunder and slam my book shut. My Mom jumps, I tell her to stay here. I go to the kitchen, she’s screaming at me, I don’t care. I walk out the front door and I feel the first drop of rain hit my head. I pause and look up toward the sky: the sky doesn’t care about what I am or what I do. I run to his house and twist the worn knob of his door, I’m not stopped. I open the door to find him in the kitchen, a look of surprise on his face he goes to yell but is stopped by the cold stainless steel piercing his abdomen. I take in the stale stench of his room and the vision of his helpless large body hit the cold concreted floor. I walk to the door, lock it and close it. I hit an icy wall or rain and let the pure water trickle down me. I hear the cries of my mother but I cannot help but smile. One less set of unrelenting predators eyes to stare into, one less rumbling mouth for our eardrums to beat

The barn was cold and dim-lighted. The musty smell of the barn filled my nostrils. It made me feel as though I had entered a Haunted House. People screamed as the ropes above shook with the wind being brought in through the holes in the wall.

Those two weeks came and went, and we were to set out in the morning for the first trip to town. I awoke the next morning at what had to be 6 am, there was no light shining through the dusty cabin window in my bedroom, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and checked my watch, it read 10:30 am stunned and convinced my watch was broken, I slumped my feet to the floor and walked to the window to find a white wall blocking my view, snow had fallen a week early. I left the bedroom and stepped outside of the cabin to find my father. I shielded my eyes as the sun reflected off of a five foot layer of snow that threatened to blind me. My father was bent down at the tires of the old SUV shovel in hand digging furiously, cursing under his breath. The white powder had all but buried everything in sight. I watched the frustration turn to panic on my father’s face; there was no way he was going to dig the car

The rusty, metal gate is broken and falling apart. I open the gate to let myself in as the wind blows by gently. The earthy and dead smells, like a cemetery are very unpleasant for me, but I can’t give up now. I need to know what happened to my family before they died. I know it wasn’t a suicide like the police said. I lost my family when I was nine; my dad, my mom and both of my grandparents. I’ve stayed at my aunt’s house ever since. And there’s never a day that I don’t miss them. As I slowly walk toward the house, I can tell how humid the air is, by my sticky skin is rubbing against each other. I’m blinded by the fog around the house as I step closer and closer. The place is silent, so silent that I could hear my own heart beating; fast

Another glance, it was only a few yards away. She was slowing, she could tell so could it. Her breath was heavy and her legs were aching, but the forest was thinning. She would soon reach the safety of her neighbors house, the footsteps were closer now closer than they ever were before. It seemed colder now, everything began changing to black and white. Before she knew it she was on the ground, a maniacal laugh rang out. The light was fading from her eyes.