Not entirely sure

I’ve been stuck on this scene for what feels like a month, except it’s probably been more along the lines of three weeks. Today however, I forced myself to sit-down to attempt to, at least figure out where the damn thing’s headed, and – well I can at least say it has the potential to go in a direction now. Though I’m still unsure of the direction it’s heading in.

I’m not entirely sure why, but I thought I’d let you guys take a look at the scene, perhaps to show that Jenny is actually a WIP, and not just all kinds of talk. Either way here ya go…

 

Once the picture below was fully developed she realized that this place was somewhere she had never before ventured, gooseflesh appeared on her forearms, she noted the strangeness of the gooseflesh, for she was feeling the complete opposite of cold, in fact she could feel the sunlight burning at her face as if she were walking in a desert. But the location was the furthest thing from desert.

Her feet landed on steady, stable, ground, but what she saw in front of her looked the furthest from stability. A New England style dwelling that looked as if it had been built during Lincoln’s era, stood before her. The house looked as though it had weathered through one too many natural disaster; in fact, how the thing seemed to still be standing fascinated Jenny. The front porch looked like it been roughed up by a tornado passing through. The porch swayed to the left and the beams that were barely holding the porch up, were deeply cracked, and they stretched from the middle of the beam to the porch’s roof. There were four windows above the decrepit porch, two on the left and two on the right. The windows look like they’d suffered the same fate as the porch, for each of them looked to have snarled webs of cracks which stretched from top to bottom. In the center of the house, between the two sets of windows, there was, no surprise to her, a small hole exposed. Revealing an interior wall of the house, that actually looked to be in tract. She had half expected at the very least to see more deep cracks, or possibly even another hole. Stretching so deep into the interior, that all that could have been seen was the dark, vastness, of the hole. But there was something else about the building, the house didn’t look sad, like most older houses (which had seen their best days thirty something years ago.) This house looked – proud. The moment that thought, ran across her mind she realized how ridiculous it sounded, but it was believably true. The house looked proud and creepy, almost as if, it knew things. Now this thought sounded even worse than the previous one, but …

She looked up again, at the decrepit house with the swaying porch, and at the cracked windows. The house was proud, in a creepily, evil sort of manner. Why it even – it has the face to prove it. The swaying porch is the thing’s mouth, the cracked windows its eyes, and the strange hole in-between the two sets of windows could be considered its nose.

Jenny felt a sudden tingle of a shiver run up her spine, followed by the appearance of gooseflesh on her forehead. Then a burning sensation in her ears as a whisper barely audible at first, rang into the sharp, clarity, of an older lady’s voice. “Come in Jenny, come in and see the secrets I’ve held. Come see how I’m still standing. I know you’re curious, you’re not the first. Come in, the fireplace is roaring, and my couches are quite comfortable. So why don’t you take a load off, and rest your weary head.”

 

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