Ugly Yellow House
Author's Note: Something that I've been brewing for a while, thinking of my own old home as I did so. Tell me what you think.
The house was yellow now. They ruined it. Once upon a time, it was beautiful: a dark steel blue with a worn brick foundation, white window panes, and a mahogany-colored gate.
That's what went through the head of the twenty-five year old blonde, as she took her first look at it in fourteen years. She was eleven when she moved out after her four-year term in it. Oh, what a great four years she had: her best friend living two houses down, her parents happy, a hound puppy greeting her every morning.
That has all changed. Along with her beautiful house.
The large yard lay before her with sprinklers at regular intervals. It was rectangular, and wider than it was tall. There was a black metal fence on the left and beige bricks on the right, past the matching mailbox and driveway and square plot of dirt. The roof of the house was still black, and she could see the chimney.
Like the yard, the house was more wide than long. It was an old ranch style from the fifties. And it was beautiful. Worn and old, but homely.
For a time, she just stared at it, while sitting on the stump of a long-dead eucalyptus tree. Other stumps surrounded her, and she tore her gaze from the ugly yellow paint on the walls to the stumps.
"One-two-three-NOT-IT!" said the boy over the span of a second and a half.
"NOT - "
" - IT!" shouted the two girls simultaneously.
"You're it, Chelsea!"
The seemingly younger girl pouted playfully before leaning against a dark purple tree, her eyes against her arms as she slowly started to count to thirty. Her two playmates then rushed behind the towering trees, peeking suspiciously out from the peeling bark to make sure she wasn't looking.
Oh, the trees. She easily used to have the most trees in a single yard in her neightborhood: twenty-four in her front yard alone. While a pain to keep tidy in the windy fall, she fell in love with them.
Her blue gaze slid along the dark, thick grass blades to a spot at the middle-end of the yard.
She never did find out the name of the purple tree. And it was gone now.
So now there were twenty-two eucalyptus tree stumps in a scattered, sloppy line.
She walked up the the house, idly peeling off a bit of the paint (the less the better, she thought), while nonchalantly glancing over near the garage, where the mahogany gate of the breezeway used to be.
That was gone as well, replaced with more walls covered in canary paint.
She sighed, giving a slight adjustment to her jacket before she trudged up the maroon and black steps to the front door and let herself in (there was the window which she shattered with her arm at age ten).
She was surprised. The house looked actually... much the same as it used to. At least, at first glance' then she ventured deeper into it.
The bastards had carpeted her room (nevermind the hours spent complaining to her now-estranged parents about the cold floor), and changed the (ugly) yellow and red tile in the kitchen. They had closed off the whole breezeway, the ten-foot wide, roofed part separating the house and garage.
Everything had a quality of fakeness to it. It was like the owners who had lived in the house after her were trying too hard.
She got outside through the entrance in the den (they had changed the door) and into the backyard.
Yes, that also changed. The grass was healthy, but the roses in the middle of the yard were gone, along with her treehouse and the tree. From where she could see, they had also removed her dog's gravestone.
She sighed. It had all changed so much. Her places of memories, they were simply gone. Most of the trees were cut down - the beautiful, old, towering trees, now probably sawdust used for horse bedding.
She turned to the backside of the house, hoping for but not expecting the yellow to be gone. It remained, a mockery of where she used to live.
But no worries, she thought, her hands deep in her pockets as she trudged back to the porch. Because now she had a lot of saved up money and the deed to the property...