Worn, tattered, ugly, hideous, mistreated, scary, those are the words people used to describe me when I was a house. I wasn't always this way; I used to be a beautiful one story home. The first people that lived in me were an elderly couple with a sweet kitten. While they were taking care of me, I was breathtaking. I had the most vibrant flowers surrounding me, I was made of the most beautiful oak any one could ever see, and I had a lovely cobblestone walkway leading up to a bright red front door. They grew older and took less care of me. By the time they had passed my cobblestone path was overgrown and my flowers lost their color.
My next owners were a young couple with four children. They were at first great owners, but then work and school took over. The children didn't appreciate my beauty they constantly beat on my oak walls. The family dog had decided that I was his litter box. Their dog also apparently didn't like my flowers so he decided to dig them up and put them on their brand new Turkish rug. They stuck a for sale sign in me after only three years, it also put a hole in my heart!
After that I was sold to a famous musician; he made a song about how depressing I was. It was called "Nothing Left" by Fernando Gonzales. This song had some benefits; like people visiting me or taking numerous pictures not to mention a song about me was on the top 20 songs for a month. But soon the fame and glory had faded. Then I became the hideous house at the end of the block.
Fernando never sold me. About a year or two after Fernando's hit song I became home to the towns homeless. I was never taken care of after my second owners, so my once beautiful oak had become rotten, faded, and washed out, my once red door had paint peeling off of it, and I had dead vines covering my exterior which made me look gloomy. The inside of me did not look much better I had tattered yellow wallpaper, squeaky flooring and dirty white rugs, and the only piece of furniture I had was a baby blue ripped up couch from Fernando's music video.
I soon became a part of a story told by the neighborhood kids told to scare each other. I was eventually knocked down to make room for Fernando's new house. Most remember me as an old house that, the song was written about. I may be a distant memory to others. I could also be that beautiful house that the elderly couple lived in to a lucky few. But at least I am a memory carried by some.
