Descriptive Essay On Blenheim Road

218 Blenheim Road was a minacious husk of what once was a home. The family that had lived there last had long moved to Iowa or Wisconsin or some other boring Midwestern state. Nobody remembered who they were anyway. The house loomed above the sidewalk like a dried up animal skeleton. Its lifeless, shattered widows glared down at any passerby; as if the house itself was watching people walk past, noticing their steps getting just a little bit quicker once they entered its gloomy stretch of sidewalk. The bricks were weather-beaten and crumbling, almost as if they had been there for centuries, instead of decades. The steps were cracked and lead up to an eroding porch that seemed just a bit askew. Even in all of its disrepair, the one thing about this house that had always seemed a little off to me was the porcelain cat statue …show more content…
Every day the windows looked a bit less like eyes. Every day the porcelain cat on the steps began to look less and less like it was watching. It’s not that 218 Blenheim was no longer an imposing and somewhat diabolical entity in my life, and the lives of the rest of the children on Blenheim Road; more that the house was fading into an uneventful constant. It was always there, never changing. Nothing interesting ever happened to that old house for years. Then someone picked up a book called Goosebumps.
The Goosebumps books were considered to be hardcore horror novels, and they certainly seemed that way. In hindsight the Goosebumps books were cheesy, poorly written, and had little to no creativity when it came to horror, but as a third grader, they sent chills down my spine, gave me nightmares, and even inspired relatively complex imaginings, going beyond monsters under the bed and further into demonic possession and witchcraft: Perhaps even witchcraft involving little porcelain-colored cats with beady eyes that watch people as they walk down the