The House Is Spacious And Immaculate

I stood in the big pale yellow house that was owned by my mother and my over-cranky step-father. It was a really ancient house even though it wasn’t built to long ago. The strawberry-milk colored shutters were creaky when opened, the paint on the outer part of the mansion like structure was peeling rapidly by the day. The indoor part of the house was the most beautiful, starting off with a BIG parlor, that extended into a long hallway with two bedrooms and a bathroom on each side. It ended into a grand living room with white walls and black carpeting with pictures of family hogging the wall. A big flat-screen TV occupied the far-corner of the living room. At the back of the living room stood a tall marble counter with birch-wood barstools and small wooden cupboards with pots and pans stored within its dark interior. The kitchen itself has a black rug in front of a steel sink with black refrigerator in the back corner with a huge oven alongside it and a microwave installed in the wall next to the freezer. In the living room behind the couch is a staircase that leads down into what seems like eternal darkness but eventually ends into a huge man-cave with a pool table occupying the far corner of the basement. In the other end of the room lies a room with a big beige sofa which is very old, with fluff and

The story opens with this sentence, “In the living room the voice-clock sang, Tick-tock, seven o'clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o'clock! as if it were afraid that nobody would” (1). This first sentence personifies the house and demonstrates its inner motives. The house’s goal is to please its inhabitants. It wakes everyone up, cooks breakfast, provides information about the day, and tells everyone their schedule. These actions give a first glimpse into the house’s love for its family. Suggesting that the house’s family has died, the narrator states, “But no doors slammed, no carpets took the soft tread of rubber heels” (1). At 10:15, the suspicion is confirmed, “The entire west face of the house was black, save for five places…. The five spots of paint—the man, the woman, the children, the ball—remained. The rest was a thin charcoaled layer” (2). The house is alone and thus, has lost its purpose. Unable to accept this fact, the house continues to try to please its family.

The house is different from other houses in the sense that, it didn’t allude to a real house. The house is an image of many ideas

It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.

It soon arises that all is not as it seems in this house; in fact the

“Yes, it took us a little while, but we managed. Dr. Jones, you have quite a lovely home,” My mom replies in an awestruck tone, and I knew she was a total goner. You see, my mom is a real estate agent, so she has a tendency to lose herself when she sees beautiful homes like this one. Sometimes it distracts her from discussing important matters at hand, like now for example.

Everyone has a “dream house”, they just rely on your opinions and beliefs. You can have a modern dream house, or maybe a vintage dream house. You can also either live in the woods, in the city, or even right by the beach! You can be by yourself, or you can have lots and lots of roommates. You can have lots of neighbors, or maybe even none at all! You could live off of a mountain, or maybe on a paved street.

Speeding around the corner, I see the dilapidated house has taken one more step toward total ruin, the cemetery has a few new headstones, and Mamaw’s house looks exactly the same. The single story white brick house sits alone on the right side of Miller Road and the yard is alive with flowers, trees, and invisible-from-a-distance fire ant-piles. I pull in the driveway and park to the side of the house under the shade of the massive pecan tree. The crunch of squirrel-cracked shells sounds beneath my feet. I smile at the familiarity of it all as the storm door thunks shut behind me. My nose is assaulted by the smell of fresh biscuits and starched laundry. Bright light floods into the empty family room from the porch, and I know I am home.

The lock made a loud click when it was turned, and swung open to invite the guests into its seemingly beautiful house. The room was dimly lit and awfully quiet. It gave off an eerie essence, as no one else was walking about the house except a pair of footsteps that was making it's way from the stairs on the third floor. Mason looked around unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were lined with velvet tapestry, and the floors were covered in a blood red carpet. The stairs were made of fine oak,

Peter advanced slowly towards the door, taking his time to notice the small details of his new home. He didn’t quite understand why, but the house itself scared him.

A pillar of light emanates from a window and dust flutters endlessly beneath it. It’s a soft light breaking through a harsh and darkened room, it exists on its own and creates vision where the surrounding room lacks it. The room itself is comfortable and seems fit a home, of what best one can make a home that is. It has an air of openness to it, an attractive glow of hospitality and home within the walls. The room itself is small and seems fit for a guest. It is plain but varied and made into a home with the various objects and trinkets that litter the walls and spaces. It is a haven for a man in exile, it is a space and a catalyst for artistic creation and is used as such by its resident. This home is known as Saint-Paul-de-Vence and will

As we went over the bridge we saw over 2 hundred or more houses. All different colors and sizes! Our house was on a canal which is a long, man made river. I had never met Anna’s Dad’s side of the family so i was very excited!

Mutable to the extreme, House XII prepares for self-undoing and self-renewal; in fact, this area specializes in transformation and virtually remains in flux. Conversely, House VI, the axis of House XII, exists as a world of practical thoughts and dutiful actions; however, wispy dreams and impulsivity enchant House XII.

Once I arrived home, I swiftly switched into the clothes I had thrown in the back and raced towards the Victorian mansion. The porch creaked beneath my feet. How did I get myself into this mess? I wondered. After knocking on the door, I waited, and after a few moments, one of the doors finally opened.

forms. First of all, the house starts to change him. Before he lived in the mansion, he was