Vita K. Jones
Stories (3/0)
The Cottage at Avebury Corner
The beamed ceilings were low and the room sizes small, made smaller by patterned wallpaper, but it all felt very spacious compared to her one bedroom flat in cold, rainy Birmingham. The cottage was surprisingly larger inside than the grey, unassuming exterior would have you believe. The furniture was unquestionably old fashioned and not items she herself would have chosen but elegant in their own way and, to her, expensive looking, an eclectic mix of styles, some of which looked like antiques, almost as strange and as beautiful as some of the pieces in Heritage homes she had visited as a schoolgirl. She was struck by the sense of history and learning inside this home, the antique furniture being complemented by bookshelves, crammed with more books than she had seen in her entire life. She gasped at the sheer quantity and beauty of those books. All around there were comfortable, worn and sometimes shabby pieces of furniture, everything rather dusty, a feeling of faded luxury and a bygone era.
By Vita K. Jones3 years ago in Humans
A Puzzle in Porcelain
The house is dying. Smells of cold, and fever, and death. Wait. Perhaps… I sniff, Is it me? I shiver, clasp my hands together, run my right thumb over the soft, wrinkled skin of my left hand. My eyes, my throat, my chest, everything feels heavy, slow, dazed, as though I’ve walked from an oven to an icebox, though I’ve only taken a step.
By Vita K. Jones3 years ago in Humans