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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1301996-Woodland-House
by Hezza
Rated: E · Prose · Home/Garden · #1301996
An unfinished piece about an unloved house
I found this saved on my computer, having completely forgotten about it a few years ago. It was going to be the start of something particular (I remember having an idea), but I can't remember what, now! Any suggestions for where this could go?

***

The gate swung inwards on creaking hinges, echoing loudly in the heavy afternoon air. Kate stepped into the thick grass beyond, feeling the air cool as she passed into the shade of the overhanging trees. The long grass was slightly damp in spite of the heat of the day, and it stuck to her bare legs as she walked through.
Gazing around as she walked, she found herself wondering what had made her open the gate. Generally shy and never particularly adventurous, it was a completely out of character move: to enter an unknown garden without permission. However, here she was, wandering down an overgrown pathway without having a clue where it would lead.

A robin alighted on a twig off to her left, and twittered conversationally, turning his head to the side to watch her. He seemed completely unconcerned by her presence and she wondered whether this meant the path was often or seldom used. Looking around, it certainly didn’t appear to be a commonly used path – the long blades of grass were uncrushed and the branches grew unbroken over them.

The path swung slightly to the left and then opened out onto the edge of a large grassy lawn, as overgrown as the woodland, crowded in a patchwork of wildflowers. The lawn sloped away to her left, down to a small pond, barely visible behind a curtain of reeds and the branches of a weeping willow. To her right stood one of the saddest buildings she had ever seen.

~ ~ ~

The rough gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked around the side of the building, passing along the edge of what she assumed had once been a kitchen garden. Now the box hedges were untidy and misshapen, and most of the herbs were choking amongst a mob of thistle and bindweed. The air was, however, heady with the scent of rosemary, mint and lavender and the outlines of the functionally laid beds were still discernible.

Passing through an archway in a high stone wall, she entered a cobbled yard, surrounded on three sides by stables and assorted outbuildings. On the fourth side was an open garage, taken up with several cars that had to be at least 30 years old, and looked like they hadn’t been driven in almost as long. A narrow lane led between the garage and the house, and she clanged across the cobbles, her footsteps sounding absurdly loud in the stillness of the courtyard.

The lane led out onto a broad gravel driveway, which ran past the front of the building in a sweeping loop. This had clearly been intended to enable carts to deliver their passengers to the door and then carry on in the direction they were heading. The lawn in the centre of the loop was patterned with what must, at one time, have been beautiful flower beds, still tumbling with roses and lobelia, but also partially grassed over and grown up with weeds. More weeds grew up between the red gravel, making it clear that this driveway had not been used for a substantial period of time.

Kate walked partway across the grass before turning to look back at the house, it’s many windows like empty eyes gazing back forlornly. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was that made her feel that the building was sad, but she was quite sure that some great sadness had occurred here.

She became aware of a sudden chill in the air, and looking up, realised that the sun was obscured by cloud and that the blue sky of earlier had been replaced by a seething mass of grey. The thunderstorm that was predicted for this evening looked to be fast moving in, and she gathered her cardigan around her shoulders and headed back towards the courtyard. Hurrying back along the woodland path, she thought about what to tell the others, and eventually decided to keep quiet about the presence of the house for the time being. Once again, this was uncharacteristic, but before she could wonder about these aberrations from her normal attitude, the canopy overhead became alive with the hissing of heavy rain. She stopped thinking and started to run as the first large droplets succeeded in penetrating the leaf-cover above.
© Copyright 2007 Hezza (hezza1506 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1301996-Woodland-House