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I walk up to the back door of the house. I was careful and quiet so as to not draw notice from neighbors who were still home. This house though was empty. the owners were left for work and school. I observed it for an hour to be sure. I should be in school as well, but this is not the first or the last time I will skip.
The steps have a slight creak to them. I heard it as the mother left. She works at the hospital as a nurse. I step with the long of the foot to cut down on the creak. That was a trick I had figured out on my own a while back. Of course you could not hear the noise at the next house and there was no one in the house to hear it now, but you mantain the disciplines none the less. Always assume you missed someone. You had before and almost got caught.
I put my hand on the knob. The shiver running up my spine is familiar. The door was unlocked. They often were. In a small town they just did not have the same paranoia. No one robs you when your gone. No one enters your house who you dont know. Well I do, but they dont know that. I slip in and glide through the foyer. Their walls are a deep stained color and the floor is hardwood. I stop and close my eyes. I take a deep breath and I can smell the house. They use a room freshener. Real houses dont smell like flowers.
I slowly walk through the house. each step is careful as I look around corners. My ears are peeked for even the slightest sound. The lights are off but the sun coming through the windows is enough to see clearly. I slowly check the interior doors. The girls bedroom. I look in and around. Pastel colors and soft things is my first impression. The girl is a little younger than my little brother. She apparently likes unicorns judging by her dresser. I move on. The Parents bed room is neat and clean. My own parents room was never neat. It was a mess. Hell, their relationship was a mess. They are a mess. Why not their room? I wonder for not the first time that all these people with neat little homes had neat little lives without complication? Do their parents fight? Do their children feel this?
I walk into the livingroom. A large fireplace dominates the room. It is is clean and looks unused. The mantel hold nice pictures of honest folk. The family is together in the pictures. All of them smiling and clean. I can't escape the feeling of being dirty. Like the debry of my family sticks to me as I leave my home. I settled myself into the large chair. This is a fathers chair. Thick and comfortable. I lift my feet and rest them on the devan. I close my eyes and the tension from the break in leaves me. I am not sneaking or breaking the law any more. At least not in my head. I am settleed in this other life. This is for a few hours my life. This is my comfortable home with out the residue of emotional tension. This my big comfy chair. This is my tv. The shower when I go take an afternoon shower is mine as well. I will leave it all here when I leave, but the few hours I am here it is all mine. I turn on the tv and live their life for a little while.
The steps have a slight creak to them. I heard it as the mother left. She works at the hospital as a nurse. I step with the long of the foot to cut down on the creak. That was a trick I had figured out on my own a while back. Of course you could not hear the noise at the next house and there was no one in the house to hear it now, but you mantain the disciplines none the less. Always assume you missed someone. You had before and almost got caught.
I put my hand on the knob. The shiver running up my spine is familiar. The door was unlocked. They often were. In a small town they just did not have the same paranoia. No one robs you when your gone. No one enters your house who you dont know. Well I do, but they dont know that. I slip in and glide through the foyer. Their walls are a deep stained color and the floor is hardwood. I stop and close my eyes. I take a deep breath and I can smell the house. They use a room freshener. Real houses dont smell like flowers.
I slowly walk through the house. each step is careful as I look around corners. My ears are peeked for even the slightest sound. The lights are off but the sun coming through the windows is enough to see clearly. I slowly check the interior doors. The girls bedroom. I look in and around. Pastel colors and soft things is my first impression. The girl is a little younger than my little brother. She apparently likes unicorns judging by her dresser. I move on. The Parents bed room is neat and clean. My own parents room was never neat. It was a mess. Hell, their relationship was a mess. They are a mess. Why not their room? I wonder for not the first time that all these people with neat little homes had neat little lives without complication? Do their parents fight? Do their children feel this?
I walk into the livingroom. A large fireplace dominates the room. It is is clean and looks unused. The mantel hold nice pictures of honest folk. The family is together in the pictures. All of them smiling and clean. I can't escape the feeling of being dirty. Like the debry of my family sticks to me as I leave my home. I settled myself into the large chair. This is a fathers chair. Thick and comfortable. I lift my feet and rest them on the devan. I close my eyes and the tension from the break in leaves me. I am not sneaking or breaking the law any more. At least not in my head. I am settleed in this other life. This is for a few hours my life. This is my comfortable home with out the residue of emotional tension. This my big comfy chair. This is my tv. The shower when I go take an afternoon shower is mine as well. I will leave it all here when I leave, but the few hours I am here it is all mine. I turn on the tv and live their life for a little while.
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Even professional writers have editors to make their work shine. I was offering this as a service, not a criticism.
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creepy, weird, yes. But really neat.
*nods nods* good job. :)
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interesting.
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Homewrecker.
:-p
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The good stuff is almost always the painful stuff, you know. That's where the power is.
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