The Deserted House

This is for the 'What's hidden on your street?' competition. Please like and fav if you think my work deserves it :) Please leave a comment ;)

3 people, all from the same street, wonder about the 'Deserted House'. They all hold different opinions of it: some don't mind, some are scared to death of it. They're not sure why it's there - curtains drawn, lights always off - but what they all have that is similar, is the courage to look further. Maybe they can't resist going beyond the guarded fence and into the house itself. But will they leave it safe and sound, or will they get a bit lost along the way?





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1. Alone

Clyde's P.O.V

I've always been a loner. No one seems to like me, not really. I try, I really do, but nothing seems to please anyone. Even my family. I live in a big house in a small community down this one road - 'Fleeter Hill' (*changed the name*). All my parents want from me are good grades at school. They want me to go to the best school, then the best sixth form, then the best university. I know it's good to think that they want a good education for me, but that's all they care about. I wonder if I was born just so they could brag to their 'friends' about how intelligent I am, or how my grades are always the top of the class. They don't seem to listen when I tell them I have no friends, or am finding it hard to fit in. They just give me the wave of their hand, and say, "Oh it'll get better. Don't you worry." But how can I not worry? I have no one to confide in - no one at all - and even my parents don't seem to understand that. I thought that's what parents are for. To be there for you. Mine - clearly not.

When it all got too much, I realised that taking a nice stroll would clear the air. After all, it's only down my road. Nothing would happen, except the few strangers looking at me like 'Why are you so ugly?' or 'Urgh you're so fat'. The looks would be different every time, but never nice.

Today, I've decided to take a different route from normal. I'm going along the path at the back of the houses in my community. There's a fence running along the back, seperating the path from people's gardens, and on the other side, well, nothing much really. I'm just walking along, minding my own business, when I spot a house on my right, where I thought grass just grew, and flowers blossomed. I thought houses were only placed on the left hand side. Obviously not.

This house is different. It's fairly big, with a widespread back garden. I look up at the tall building. It's grey and dull, and no one seems to be at home. The shutters on the back door are closed, and the curtains too. I can't seem to see any car in the driveway either, but it's hard to see as my view is from the back of the house. I take a step closer, as I smell the lovely scent of cakes being made. It's wafting towards me from the house. But surely it can't be from the house? I can't see anyone in the kitchen.

I poke my head around the tree, pushing the branches aback from my face. The fence in front of me is small, only about a metre high. I could easily jump over it and go inside. Maybe they'd happily share some cake with me? Maybe. Or maybe not.

I decide to leave them be though. I carry on my walk as usual, ignoring the scent that seems to follow me as I go. I trudge along the path, trying to block the temptaion. When I look up to see if I'm at a clearing yet, I notice a girl walking in my direction. She has silky brown hair, up in a ponytail, and she's walking confidently, hands gently swaying by her side. I eye her cautiously as she walks past me, but then I get the most strangest thing. A smile. Yes, she smiled at me. The first person to do that in ages. And the funny thing is, I smile back.

Once she's gone past, I wait a minute, before turning around. Then, I realise she's stopped in her tracks. I notice a backpack secured to her shoulders, and in one leap, she jumps over the fence. The fence that leads to the house. At first, I think of this as nothing - she probably just lives there. But then I look back again, noticing the vast amount of dead flowers among the garden, and the way she looks adventurous, as if she's going on a hunt. It can't be her house. It just can't be. And that's when I start to retrace my footsteps, running after her, curious to see where she's going, and what she's planning to do.

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