The dark figure scurried; hunched over, head deep in his coat to hide from the fierce wind that tore at his clothes. The long pathway on which was being walked was large and covered in near black gravel. The large door at the end of the path was a large solid oak affair, which showed the effects of years of abrasive sea winds. When the warmly clothed owner reached the door, they raised their eyes to appraise the newly acquired building. Outwardly, the building was grey, large windows with dull glass, plain crenellations lining the roof, and dark grey slate adorning it. The building had once been owned by a minor lord in the 18th century, who had tried to do as much has he could to the building's exterior to make it appear like a house of worth. It was, however, and always was, a dump. Problems lingered and festered in that building, like bacteria in a well used cesspool.
There was a dark history surrounding the house. Of its many previous inhabitants, over 30 had ended their lives, become mentally unstable, or taken the lives of their family who lived there with them. However, this didn't concern the man who twisted his hand on the door's solid iron handle. As he pushed the door, a loud screech was emitted, only to be torn away by the howling wind. He ducked inside the door, closing the door behind him. Looking about himself, he stood in a large antechamber with the signs of rot and degradation plain to see on the walls and floors. Patches of floor boards were breaking in on themselves through woodworm, and the paint on the walls had flaked, giving the wall a diseased, scabrous appearance, like patches of necrosis, eating away at the body. The man sighed, a contented sigh, and walked into the main hall, his footsteps echoing through across the room.
This was his first time entering the house, prior to this, he had seen only photographs and heard accounts from the surveyors. There was a deadly stillness in the air around him, enough to stir uneasiness in the hardest of souls. To put the feeling out of his mind he decided to learn the whereabouts of all of the rooms. First of all he headed to his left, he followed a narrow hall, methodically opening and closing each door as they came, building a mental map of the house in his mind. He had just finished checking the kitchens when he came to a locked door. The door, unlike the rest of the doors in the building, had at some point been painted completely white, as opposed to the naked brown of the oaken doors. Signs of distress were evident on the door, along with cracked, black patterns on the face. He tried the handle once more, and leant into it with his shoulder, but still the door didn't move. He moved on and took a quick tour of the rest of the house. Once he had finished, he headed back to the largest bedroom he had found and checked the bed. Although there was a thick layer of dust on the sheets, he noted the bed itself was stable, and beneath the top layer, it was completely clean. As the master bedroom, there was an en suite, which as he entered, he regretted instantly. The acrid smell of rotten sewage filled his nostrils, making him nauseous. He backed out of the room quickly and closed the door tight.
It was late in the day, and he decide there was nothing more he could do today, especially without any of his possessions, which were due to arrive at the same time as him, but had to be rescheduled due to bad weather. He made his way back to the bed, where he stripped off the first layer of sheets and climbed into the bed fully clothed, tonight was not a warm one. He was rather surprised at just how tired he felt as soon as head hit the pillow, but then, it had been a long day of driving for him to reach the house. He fell asleep almost instantly. His first night in the house. He slept soundly, except for one dream, that of a door. Painted white, with cracks and black marks.
He awoke to the sounds of birdsong, under the covers he was now perspiring from the heat of the morning sun. He sat up on the edge of the bed and yawned as he stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders to remove the ache of the night and walked to where the window was letting the light flood in. He gazed out into vast woodland, leaves shining brightly in the sun, although dark as night under the thick canopy. He headed down the creaky stairs and out the front door. The moving truck was going to be here soon, so he might as well spend a while outside, soaking in the morning atmosphere. He had a quick walk in the grounds, noting the beautiful woodland to one side of the house, and glorious ocean view on the other. He stared down over the cliffs edge and shuddered, he couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to jump. The crunch of the gravel under the wheels of the truck coming up the drive made him turn. He smiled and ran over to where the front door, where the truck had already pulled up. He and the two delivery men made short work of the unloading, and soon enough, he was once again left alone in the company of the house.
