The Dull-Personal Narrative

In the dark and gloomy house, the walls were damp and old; the carpet was full of a thick layer of dust that had been collected over the dozens of years. Surrounded by emptiness, the breeze was gushing through the walls everywhere you went there was a draught. The smell of mouldy milk made my stomach churn. All you can see around you is antique dolls, dusty old fashioned furniture and cobwebs intertwined everywhere.
The house was hidden in the bewildered forest it looked abandoned like it had been there for decades with no one to care for it, thick ivy grown wildly covering the front of the house. The door handles so rusty that you physically couldn’t turn it, broken roof tiles sliding off the roof in every direction. Ghostly noises came out of nowhere. Sudden chills against your skin like someone was behind you like you weren’t the only one there although it had been abandoned for decades, strange unexplainable happenings that have no explanation?
The colours of the ghostly house were mainly jet black and graphite grey. Dull boring colours, there were no bright colours to be seen. It felt like someone was watching me; the floor boards around me were creaking! I could hear colossal echoing footsteps neighbouring me everywhere I went. I heard the howl of an …show more content…
The house was oversized and the tranquil nature that bordered it was overgrown and untamed. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It wasn’t a welcoming house to visit. The grass was as brown as auburn; it was parched and dehydrated. The air was unclean; it chocked you when you breathed it in. Your eyes had to adjust to such lifeless dull colours. You couldn’t get a glimpse of colour other than black or grey or any other dull shades. The auburn musky grass was long and wild. It would cover up to someone’s hip. The dust trapped in my nose gave me the sensation of needing to