House Cuckoo

The room is a rich, warm brown in color. Lanterns, of several colors, are hanging in random intervals on the ceiling. Giving the room an abstract feel that tied into the rest of its appearance.

On the wall opposite the door is a large bed set in an oak frame. The wardrobe and other furniture are the same. Installed in the head board of the bed are a sound system and candle holders. In front of the bed, on the hardwood floors, lay a carpet with mysterious designs.

The dinning room had a chandilier that had chrashed to the floor long before the paint even began to peel. The room had once been a golden color in its better days. A chair was in pieces in one corner, a broken vase in another, dead long withered flowers looked sad. Table was broke in half, due to the weight of the chandilier, splinters were everywhere. Even though the air looked happy, one could still feel the anger that was once held in this room.

The walls are white and empty. There is one large window positioned across from the closet, which has a mirror for a door.

There is a four-post bed against one of the walls, draped with a gauzy white fabric for a canopy. The pillows, which are many, alternate in white and silver, while the bedspread is white with silver swans embroidered on it.

A simple, two-drawer nightstand occupies the space near the bed. It is graced with a silver and glass lantern. The dresser matches the nightstand, with carvings of swans on the sides. A vanity mirror stands on the dresser.

The room is absent of clutter and stimuli, which its occupant finds comforting. 

Actions:

The room its self was crimson in color, white bed spread.  His sister, Naphtali, was yin, and he was yang. There was a cello hidden in one corner of the room, awaiting its master to be played. Art supplies cluttered the corner nearest the window, book shelves half full of them and then books.  This room was in an odd way a reflection of its occupant, but it showed the hope that was left inside, that he did not.

Actions:

You can see four doors in this particular part of the red corridor…it appears to have no end.

There was almost always music coming form this room, it was a midnight blue in color, the ceiling splatter painted with white. A large bed in the center with black silk sheets, and black posts with silver dragons wrapped around them.  A desk to the left of the window seat, the far right wall nothing but books.  A dresser near the door held inscense as it burned, filling the room with the musky dark scent of dragons blood, setting you on fire. This room didn't match its occupants enthusiam.

Actions: sit on the window seat; inspect a dragon; stare at the ceiling; sniff at the incense; browse the books

You can see four doors in this particular part of the blue corridor…it appears to have no end.

You can see four doors in this particular part of the green corridor...it appears to have no end.

Nostalgia is the feeling one has when entering the room. An overwhelming emotion of yearning for the past. A glockenspiel comes to mind with a trace  of lost innocence.

A misfits Living Room, grungy feeling with a pleasant scent of rose/patchouli incense and the sweet smell of marijuana in the air.  Ancient wallpapers and graffiti are decorating the walls. The rays of the sunlight are illuminating the dance of dust particles on the old victorian carpet. To your left sits a couch and a table. A shelf stands at the north wall and opposite of the couch are a Stereo with big boxes and a television. A doorway leads to another room.

Actions: look at couch; look at table, snoop the shelf, listen to some music, watch Moyra's TV

The library, a once lush room now tattered and torn, like the books one would expect to find there. But unfortuantely on the first few trips into this room, it was empty, some shelves in the wall were missing, and the desk was falling apart. The book smell was there, but faint and hidden under a damp watery smell. But after the fourth guest arrived, everything changed. The scent of books could be smelled from just outside the door, book were everywhere, even books with names of the occupants. The house was trying to say something.

As you come up the stairs you can see four corridors leading away from the gallery. Curiously enough the previous owner appears to have had a strange taste for color. Every Corridor, going into a different direction, was painted in a different Tone.

Narrator Paragraph max 150 words

As soon as you enter the rotting door all you can see are remnants of pale blue, stained yellow with age, wallpaper. An empty floor cluttered with trash. A double stair case led to the second floor, what was once a beautiful shining marble was now dull and cracked, all signs of life gone decades ago. A few steps into the room shows that off to the left is a door with a corridor. To the right is a blue door and straight ahead an open Door leading to a room what once was a Library.

The best place to run away to, is a place that time itself has forgotten. Only the echos of stories passed around among the teens let some one see what kind of place this mansion once was. It was on the outskirts of town, none of the locals came near it, it was close enough to wander on foot to and fro. It was up the coast from the main beach, cliffs keeping their private space clear of any straying kids. A dense forest to the left, there was only one way in. Meaning only one way out. For being an abandoned place for so long, it was still sturdy, repairs looked doable. Which everyone took for granted, no one thought to question how that was.