I stood at the door for a long time.
I couldn’t let my mind wander to ungraded papers, unfinished wedding plans or tonight’s now forgotten dinner party.
Reaching out for the silver handle the old-fashioned French doors swung open easily.
Once again I found myself unable to move, the smell of fresh
wood and flowers wafted through from the house. I could only imagine how many
rooms, hallways and passages filled the enormous house that stood before me.
From the outside the large Victorian-style house dominated
So far, The house’s size and beauty was rivaled only by one, the equally extravagant
residence across the street.
The house across the street was painted in the richest of reds and pale green. It reminded me of Christmas’ long past.
The front yard was well trimmed, exotic and billowy trees hung over the entrance. A single black lamppost stood out among the green, a beacon.
I turned from the house across the street and to the one that was now mine. I had been told my grandmother left it to me and Ms. Ginger her (well mine, now) neighbor absolutely gushed over the brilliance of it.
Peering through the door, I glimpsed down the long hallway. Leaving the door opened I stopped about five steps in and did a quick pivot coming face to face with my reflection in an ornate gold mirror.
My black hair fell meticulously down my shoulder, my eyes, if possible lay dull and still, so dark they could have been black. A slight bit of color hinted my cheeks but it would soon fade.
A gust of wind shut the door from behind me, I jumped slightly before letting out a sigh of relief.
I peered out the window at the other houses that littered
Perhaps I was doing pretty well
Considering I had died 3 days ago.