Thursday, January 13, 2011

The beginning of a story inspired by grading tests...

For some reason he had always found the answer slightly haunting. He was not sure why. Certainly, red houses are not something that one comes across often, thus adding extra mystery to why the house was empty. He looked at it again:

“…find the red house empty.”

Of course the students had fumbled through it in the beginning. By now he had seen every possible permutation of the five words. But this was the third test that the sentence had appeared on and this time at least the majority of students from the top class, 1-1, were getting the right order of words.

“…find the red house empty”. It was a peculiar sentence. One whose incompletion was particularly frustrating. He pictured a maroon house, which would (outside of its color) easily fit into a lower middle class American suburb, probably, he speculated, built in the 70’s. It is late afternoon on a summer day, that time when everyone is experiencing the second largest dip in their metabolism for the twenty four period. This, coupled with the hot sun, now at the perfect eye-striking angle, lends a sickliness to the stagnant air. The lawn is yellow around the house, contrast garishly with the maroon walls. There is no garden, just a cracked walkway through the golden front lawn. The dilapidation could be indicative that the house is inhabited by young adults (college students perhaps), but that seems unlikely considering the lack of life around the place.

He imagined walking up the driveway and onto the path. He notices that the door is slightly ajar. Inside it is dark.

1 comment:

  1. ...I got a bad, bad feeling that my baby don't live here no more.

    Jimi Hendrix - Red House.

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