The Homes Of Time: A Narrative Fiction

A seemingly ordinary young boy named Herman Mudgett was wandering the woods that surrounded Gilmanton, New Hampshire, when he discovered a house. He had not come across it before, so he decided to explore what was inside. The door was already open, and the condition of outside convinced him that no one was living in it. Herman first noticed an upstairs landing that overlooked most of the common area. The home looked as if no one had ever occupied it; the walls were white, but looked grey due to the overwhelming amount of dust, and it was almost empty. Herman decided to continue his tour upstairs. When he finally reached the second floor, he carefully looked over the unstable railing to observe the space from above, although it did not look much different from the lower view. Herman continued to wander the halls until he heard a loud thump in one of the bedrooms.

When I finish getting ready I run downstairs and grab my bag and get into the car where my brother, sister and mom were waiting. I turned to Erik and said “hey what the weird song you were listening to when I was on your Spotify?” Erik turned to me and said “Ode To Sleep i'm pretty sure. I don't listen to any their music, but I know that song.” On the way to school my brain wouldn't stop saying ‘I LIKED THAT SONG YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO IT AGAIN!’ Needless to say I listened to the song all that day.. And the next and the next, bacilly for the whole rest of the month my world revolved around that

The library was the crown jewel of the house. It was at the center, and occupied both floors with a cherry wood spiral staircase connecting both the floors. It also had a great balcony off the second floor that overlooked the whole estate, and her parents hosted a multitude of social gatherings with “important, respectable people” whose names Essily couldn’t be bothered to remember. Every wall of the library was covered with bookshelves that were either filled with books, or various souvenirs her parents had acquired through the years, such as a large globe or a painting of some idyllic city. It was all lit by an enormous chandelier.Waiting at one of the tables in the center of the library was her tutor, Mr. Smith, and her

The houses become symbols of who their inhabitants are in the extract. They give readers insights to where they live, how they live and who they are. The “quiet, closely-shut buildings” are perhaps the only privacy the residents have. The speaker brings in social context through this description and the tone shifts to one of

“Take for instance that new house of his. It had two stories with porches, with bannisters and such things. The rest of the town looked like servants' quarters surrounding the "big house." And different from everybody else in the town he put off moving in until it had been painted, in and out. And look at the way he painted it - a glowy, sparkly white.

surprised by himself. He had a moment of realization that his mind was opening for what could

In his heart he heard the newly awakened voice speak, and it said to him:

He described it as, “looking oddly newer than it had fifteen years before”. Saying it seemed more sedate then he remembered, more perpendicular and strait-laced, the windows seemingly more narrow and shinier woodwork, seeming as though a coat of varnish had covered

He decided to take a nap and hoped he’d wake up with a normal temperature. As he was drifting off he thought he saw a small spark jump off of his skin as though it were to start a fire.

At the beginning of his short story he begins describing Emily Grierson’s house, which was once the best one on the street but now it’s repulsive. “It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas

The narrator says, “but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me --upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain --upon the bleak walls --upon the vacant eye-like windows --upon a few rank sedges --and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees --with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to”(1st paragraph). He basically says the house looks like the family it’s a replica of their

“Of course I know that.” I said winking at her. We were walking out of school together, when I suddenly stopped, and just looked around. It was as if I wasn’t in control of my body. I turned around, and robotically walked back into the school.

Syd sat on his bed, singing a blues tune. It wasn’t the usual for him to be smitten with music so early in the morning but he was in the mood for it—the musical protégé inside had called to him. His choice of song had been a classic, something his brother had sung when

The story Map of Home gives insight into the lives of a family that has been pushed out

“Whoa!” They both said in unison. They stared at their new “home” mouths gaping. Inside were many roughly built building covered in dust from the