The betrayal of the home

Chapter 1

     Valley House had stood before any person had known of its construction. The whole creaked as gusts of wind flowed over it’s ancient components. Valley house had been abandoned for over three generations, neglected of repairs or renovation. An assortment of rotten Victorian decor could be seen dotting the interior, covering it’s peeling wallpaper and cracked stone fireplaces. The only furniture was covered in yellowed sheets, the only life coming from the erratic reflections on broken stained glass from the top floor’s window. Valley house stood, in defiance of nature, it’s border older than the trees surrounding it. No termite or fungus, vulture or lichen dared to touch it’s interior. There were no vines covering the decrepit stone, nor were there grasses poking out of cracks in floorboards. Tree Roots avoided it’s foundation, causing the trees near Valley House to curve away. It stood still for uncomfortably long, thought John Mulberry.

     John Mulberry was the code enforcer for the county where Valley house was located. Although John was originally tasked to only schedule the demolition of Valley House, John had decided that it was his job to survey the condition of the building. No one else at the office where he worked was willing to do so, as most agreed that Valley House had been abandoned for such a long while that it was undoubtedly unrepairable. John’s co-workers dismissed the idea of making the grounds a protected monument as an exceptionally wealthy family wanted to clear the plot for a summer home. John came to Valley House in defiance of their decision. It was too interesting to him that a house was able to stand for so long without any assistance. He was half expecting the house to fall over by the time he arrived.
Valley House stood in opposition to John's thoughts. He approached the entrance, an elegant rectangular porch no more than twenty feet in width, raised by two or three steps. He grabbed the spruce banister as he climbed up. John stared at the house’s front door, a large rectangle with an arch faded of it’s paint, displaying the warping on it’s frame.
      He stood for a moment before turning the casted brass doorknob adorning it’s front. Valley House did not budge. It’s front door refused to open, not giving in an inch. John tried again, this time slamming his body weight into the frame of the door, but it refused him entry. He fought the house with all of his might and finally the door cracked an inch before rapidly falling open. In front of John was a hallway, about as wide as the door itself, with an uncomfortable lack of space. The hallway stretched about ten feet before reaching a door.
     There was nothing in the hallway except for the peeling wallpaper and a single recessed light in the ceiling. John searched for a light switch, even though he knew Valley House was disconnected from the grid, but he did not find one. He took out his flashlight knowing this was going to be difficult, and propped it between his front teeth. This led him through the hallway door to a room about four or five times his height, sprawling upwards to the broken stained glass window at the top, flooding the room with daylight.
      Two concrete staircases extended outwards from the left and right side of the room curving to a balcony in the middle of the wall. The steps were unusually tall, each one about four inches below his knee; there was no suggestion of a railing or banister, nor a wall to support himself. The walls were stripped of any decorative items, leaving behind absent shadows of frames on the suggestion of wallpaper left after years of degradation.
     John, although familiar with many architectural styles, could not definitely place the period the house was constructed in. The deterioration of Valley house suggested victorian or even earlier, but the 'stairs' in front of him suggested a post modern brutalist installation. The mere proportions of the room were alienating, as if it wasn't meant for anyone to see.