Saturday, September 24, 2005

Patches in a Larger Tapestry

The house on the hill, before the rain arrived, stood as it always had. Seemingly from the very day it was finished, it had projected and air of looming dreariness. This was not so much a fault of the house itself as it the house's Victorian-esque construction. It quietly shouted "gothic". The large front windows somehow managed to be dark even during the sunniest afternoons, and the lawn stretching up to the porch resisted all attempts to keep itself kempt and orderly. It always looked as if it had last been mowed two weeks ago, shortly before a heavy rain. Today the coming storm provided a scenic backdrop for the old house, black thunderheads promising anything from light rain to windows-lashing torrents. Poe himself would not have been able to write a better setting. And while the windows were usually dark, today was an exception. Perhaps it was the rain. It may even have been the owner of the little red car parked haphazardly on the lawn, perilously close to nudging the mailbox. She(because a she it was), was currently busy lighting candles and creating an atmosphere of cheer, albeit it slightly forced. An old record filled the house with the bustling sounds of jazz, and the smell of thick stew(beef, made from scratch) wafted through the house. You may be wondering at this point about the owner of the little red car, and what she was doing in such an old, gloomy house. Her name was Magda, and she had purple hair. A dark blue skirt swished around her legs as she flitted from kitchen to living room, and a small locket on a silver chain hung around her neck. She absentmindedly tucked it back into her blouse as she tasted the stew, and a stray strand of purple hair was brushed back behind her ear as the spoon returned to the stewpot. Magda gave a pensive frown and added a dash more pepper. Striped socks were evident as she dashed back to the living room and lit another candle. Her uncle was still upstairs after having given over the house to her ministrations; he'd retreated to his study to pen a letter to her mother, probably already wondering when she'd be out of his quarters. Well, she thought with a smile, he'd have to learn that life wasn't all gloom and doom, and she was perfectly willing to prove it to him, no matter how long it took.

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