The House That Was

Through the daze of the fog there lay a large white cottage. This Cottage stood tall and bold, fierce against the soft countryside. The manor had large wooden shutters which were pinned to the wall with rusted metal pegs, however one of the pegs had loosened and the shutter swung freely back and forth. The windows had been left open and the spidery netting was now dancing in the wild gusts of wind. The unforgiving wind tore at the large willow tree which swooped outside the house like a clumsy giant. From the outside the glistening house looked lost and lonely in such a desolate place yet it looked as picturesque as the large forest which the manor backed onto.

There were four worn steps which led to the entrance of the house. The door had a large frame and a black metal hatch which had not been shut properly, the black metal was as cold as ice and ancient. The door had swung open in the rapid gales and the sparkles of the light glinted on the wooden floor and gave a much softer feeling to the place. Inside there was a large wooden table covered in porcelain plates and large wine glasses, as if put down in a hurry. At the far end of the corridor was a large staircase twisting as it reached half way. The staircase was covered in a red and cream material to make the house seem more welcome to the guests who would normally stay for parties until early hours of dawn. The doors of the first floor had been shut. All except one.

Inside this room the yellow paper seemed to still be happy and bright. The yellow wallpaper made the room look cozier and feel warmer; you couldn’t help but smile when you entered. The windowsill was very large and had a cushion propped up against the small wall. On the windowsill there was a half open book fluttering in the wind. The books bindings were leather and expensive. The corners had been bent and torn, attacked by feeble fingers in a hurry to turn the page.
There were also two settees spread out across the huge room. The sofas were white and on one of the cushions there was a light brown stain where an enthusiastic child had knocked over paints and a mother rushed to repair the damage. A small lampshade was still turned on in the corner. The light was bright still and the light seemed to hold all the shadows at bay. Behind the sofa an unfinished game of cards was anxiously awaiting the player’s return, a return which would never happen. Beside the cards a small pair of boy’s shoes lay ready for a small boys feet. Next to the shoes there was a work table made of a red coloured wood with a thin layer of gold inlaid around the outside. A bunch of letters were scattered across the desk and a coffee stain off when the boy’s father had been in a rush whilst searching the drawers. A picture sat gracefully on the edge of the desk; dust clung to the cold glass. The table was facing towards another large window. This time the window faced to a small rope swing where the fathers three children would play merrily. The window had been propped open by a metal rod however the winds strength was no match for the metal rod and the window had swung closed, trapping a piece of the curtain outside. Two clicks of the radiator then it burst into heat.


The final door on the right was a swing door. Inside, this room was colder. The floors were tiled and grey. Scrubbed so much that they finally gave in and began to dull. Large marble bench tops surrounded this room with a large brick stove in the middle. The cold marble glinted as the sun peered in through the window. The window was darker than the ones in the first room. This window was at the back of the house and the oversized tree’s spread over the house. The fruit on the table had begun to turn a horrible shade of brown and the grapes had begun to shrivel. What was left of them anyways, small nibbles had been taken out of the fruit. A feast for the mice. Grey pans banged together as they hung from a small rack over the oven. The oven was grey brick and black. With a large chimney chute. Wine glasses stood frozen on one of the bench tops and cut vegetables lifelessly fell to the cold marble. There was a small clock in the corner of the room. This ancient clock looked irregular compared to the rest of the room. The clock was a wooden box, it looked cheap compared to the glamorous room. A small metal had would struggle round the board and as the hand hit 11.00 a small figurine came out of the hatch in the top of the box and hit a bell with the small hammer. This irregular clock seemed to bring back the life and happiness to this dull room. Every now and again the kettle begins to whistle and the gas will turn off as the timer counts down to zero.

The entrance to the house was still wide open awaiting the next person. Next to the door opposite the sitting room was a small study. The study had a large wooden table surrounded by a library amount of books. Books on language and books on legends. This room was made for the father. Its view was to the front of the house so that anyone walking up to the houses would be seen. On the table, old documents smothered the rich wood and coffee stains made patterns across the table. There were purple flowers in a little blue porcelain cup on the side window. The scent from the flowers clung to the room making the room smell sweet.

There was a large white door second from the end. Black fingerprints clung to the door as the person who put them there did. The door gracefully swung open. This was the grand bedroom. The room had an overpowering smell of lavender which sprung on you as you entered. There was a large, white dressing table silently sitting in the corner. Looking closer at the table there was gold and pink segments in it. Pearls dripped from the drawers in curiosity. As the wind touched the pears they danced and glistened, making them mesmerizing. On the table there was a large brush, gold with figurines on the back of the handle, faded letters stood on the base. In a half open drawer there was a large jungle of make-up: red lipstick, eye shadows, blushers, but underneath the makeup an entwined piece of paper hid. The side of the paper stood on its edge reading “ Jewish Family’s New Jobs”. Next to the dresser there was a wardrobe left half open. Hangers were flung from the wardrobe, some had escaped under the bed. There was an ink splatter on the floor that no one had been bothered to clean up. The bed was a four poster bed. Large, elegant white nets were draped over the top. A picture had been left on the bed by accident. It had a tall man with golden brown hair and hard brown eyes which mesmerised his wife. He was in a uniform. A doctor. He was holding a new baby. The baby held onto the man’s thumb and its small eyes stayed shut.

Outside this room the corridor was almost at its end. One door stood on its own accompanied by a window. The lonely door was silent and dull. The only bit of beauty from the door was the twinkling door knob where the light had jumped through the window. The light from the door peered under the protective door, illuminating the cold wood underneath. The door stood on its hinge and creaked open.
This room was different to the other rooms. Lights were still switched on. There was a crackle from the radio, the dust began to drift over the radio like a silk spider web. On the wall there was an ancient map of Europe with a pin mark saying “we are here” pointing at Berlin. Pictures of boys and girls surrounded the map making the plain wall burst with excitement. Two beds were positioned in the room. The smaller one looked out of the window into the forest. The other bed was a bunk bed which had cards spread out across it and a disappointed teddy sat lonely on the edge of the bed missing the cuddles which it endured. A chess board lay on the floor. Most of the pieces were scattered across the board, the rest, waiting for a battle. A child’s school uniform was crinkled up on the floor. The grey uniform’s only bit of colour was a yellow star sown untidily onto the sleeve. In the corner there was a toy puppet wearily rocking backward forth and a twinkling boy’s car waited anxiously to be wound up so it could scuttle across the floor.

Outside the long pathway stretched far. At the end was an old wooden fence. The fence was smothered in flowers at one end and a large picture of the family who once surrounded the house with laughter. A small Star of David peered from behind the flowers, further along the fence a notice read “ 13th of March 1942. Any Jewish residents will be picked up and took to a private working facility. Yours only A. Hitler“. The once family house stares onwards, awaiting the family once again walking down the cobbled pathway once again.