Deeper Into Descriptive Writing

The Abandoned House - Descriptive Composition

At the end of my narrow one way cul-de-sac road, stood my newest listing. As I strolled down the cobblestone walkway, sensualising whiffs of a neighbour's fresh baked apple pie tempted my taste buds with welcoming spicy scents of cinnamon and nutmeg. Mahogany and mustard coloured leaves crunched as I made my way nearer to the antebellum house.The abandoned house looked dilapidated and lonely:overgrown weeds and briars barricaded its doors; the windows had long been blown-out; a rusted screen door swung whimsically in the wind, barely hanging on by a single hinge.Ragged, half-disintegrated curtains with velvety, red fringe cascaded out of what was left of the fragmented stained-glass windows. Pale, yellow paint that once embellished its exterior, now peeled from age, revealing new cracks and crevices, as if they were wrinkles on its weathered skin. A large, wooden porch with loose, creaking floorboards wrapped attractively around the relic two-story abode. Captivated, Intrigued, fascinated, my curiosity guided me inside. My eyes were instantly drawn to the large vaulted ceilings lined with ornamental moulding. Hints of cedar from old stacks of unused firewood lingered in the musty air. Cobwebs and dust bunnies decorated the interior. An array of critters had taken up tenancy, and the job of interior decorator. A lone black and yellow spider sat still in the far left corner, smack-dab in the centre of its intricately woven web (as if waiting with anticipation for its next meal). Surveying my surroundings, I was pleased that some of the original furnishings remained. Some of the home decor was coated in rancid smelling mouldy growth; other more vintage looking pieces had been covered with protective plastic sheets.The lion-clawed sofa was hand-embroidered and ornate; It's what I think of as quintessentially Victorian style. I was enthralled, enthralled because I had never seen such an exquisite collection of Baroque style, carved walnut armchairs.I ran my hand over the obviously restored smooth oak arms. The walls of antiquated wallpaper, housed a collection of family portraits displayed in grandiose frames etched in gold.The more hidden treasures I discover, the more inquisitive I became. A crystal chandelier hung slightly off centre in the main living area. Tiny tear-drop prisms cascaded down in clusters, and projected delicate, dancing rainbow images onto the eastern wall. The varnished chocolate brown stained floors remained intact, but the boards whined and moaned after each step that I took, as if feeling their age. I explored further. Speckles of rat droppings lined the bathroom floors. Holes had been eaten out of the white foam ceiling tiles. Any concerns of an infestation were confirmed as I breathed the musky, ammonia filled air. It reeked. Holding my noise, I eyed the interior fixings.The ceramic tiles were pristine: creatively outlined in a lovely floral print laced with gold flecks. The tall, enamel master-bathroom vanity mirror, reflected glimpses of the setting sun's magnificent royal purple and rose gradients. My escapade had lasted longer than I expected; anxious for a breathe of fresh air, I took one last glance around and headed back out the ageless pine door into the brisk autumn evening.