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AUGUST 5TH, 2013
I hate this house Mary introduced to me. It creaks and smells of rotten wood and decay. I could swear that this house is older than God. But it was sold to me for literally almost a song; hell, the woman who sold this house would've taken anything for it.
Not that I'd blame her. This house must suck to keep up, but it's worth it to get away from my ex-wife Rochelle and her boyfriend. Our divorce isn't even finalized and she's already gotten herself knocked up yet again by a friggin' druggie.
My mistake. I'm talking about the house here, not those lumps of trash.
Anyway. This house, despite the disgusting smell and poky floorboards, is pleasing to the eye on the outside. It's a pale, creamy beige, two stories, with large windows framing every room in the house. It's really more window than house, may the truth be told, but at least it gets air and light. It's got a large backyard, and the front yard has some dying grass but it's alright. Nothing too fancy.
I just noticed that there were a lot of "buts" when I described this house. God, am I trying to subconsciously get myself to love this house? I think Mary's getting to me. Her stupid sales pitch, "blah blah this house blah blah four bathrooms, etc.". Bah. I'm trying to sell my own house to myself.
Jake is coming by to drop off some more of my furniture. Hell, I hear him now. I'll write later if I'm not too sore.
- by Oatmeal Creame Pie |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 10/22/2013 |
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- Title: He Wasn't There, Chapter One
- Artist: Oatmeal Creame Pie
- Description: Does anyone even read the description?
- Date: 10/22/2013
- Tags: horror halloween
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