Quick note: I wrote this about five years ago (around 2019) for a school assignment. The story is based on The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.
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The house was big.
That is the most obvious and uncreative word to say, but it's the truth. It was big. I've seen rather large houses in my lifetime, but this one took the cake. Madoc, my husband, didn't have the same reaction as I did, at first.
The keywords are "at first."
The car was stopped for at least two minutes on the gravel driveway before he looked up. When he did, his mouth dropped open just enough that a fly could have flown in, circled around, and flown out and he never would have known.
"Are you sure we're at the right address?" he squeaked out.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure. We'd used a new website for our trip that showed us the picture, but the small, cute cottage on it was, well, smaller.
I managed to shut my mouth, then opened it again to say, "Maybe the picture was old."
Madoc kind of laughed. It was a short, choked sound. He pushed the car door open and got out. Stone and dirt crunched under his feet as he walked to the truck.
The screen of my phone glared up at me. I kept scrolling through the webpage, making sure we hadn't been mistaken. It felt silly to keep checking-the address was correct. The outside of the house was the same-everything was right. It was just surprising. The rental was supposed to be for a cottage-like house in a small town, but yet, Madoc and I were going into a home slightly smaller than a mansion.
A knock on the window made me jump. Madoc raised an eyebrow. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah." I hopped out and shoved the phone into my pocket. My husband brought me a suitcase, then grabbed his from the back.
Paved stones made a path from the gravel driveway to the front door. It was nearly impossible to step off them, they were so wide. When we reached the front door, Madoc was the one to input the passcode. It was strange, having a door that was unlocked with a password instead of a key. I'd seen cars that had both, but never a house.
The door swung open easily. Madoc went in first, then I followed. The living room was the first room we came to, which quickly became the "throw-everything-here room." With a crazy half-smile, Madoc turned to me a rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Want to look around?" he asked.
There was no need to wonder. I loved exploring new places as much as he did.
That time, I led us out of the room. A set of stairs covered by deep scarlet carpet caught my eyes.
We may as well go upstairs first.
I climbed the steps two at a time. There was one small hallway at the top, leading to may rooms with closed doors. Something about it felt strange, like a name that wanted to be recalled but wouldn't come up.
I jiggled the first knob. It didn't budge. Madoc raised an eyebrow, then tried the door across from me. He had the same result.
I shrugged. "I guess they're supposed to be locked."
"Guess so."
It didn't stop us from trying, though. Each room we came to, we tried to get in, but failed miserably each time.
The one to stop first was me. A sigh escaped my lips. I pressed my hand against the wall, feeling a rough spot scrape my palm, then paused. That was what had been wrong. The wall-it was just sheetrock. All the paint had been scraped off so just streaks remained, which stained the gray like a bloodstain. No paper was on the wall either. They were just-bare.
