Assignment for my creative writing class.
“It is a bit of a fixer-upper, as you can see.” The real estate agent pushed aside some of the creeping vines that intertwined with the curls of the wrought-iron gate so that he could unlock the padlock that chained it shut.
“Who let it get like this?” asked Maureen, frowning at the unkempt yard beyond the gate.
The agent tugged at the gate, and after some initial resistance it creaked rustily open. “Well, after Old Man Crandall died, there was a big fuss over the will: lawsuits and such. His heirs dragged it on for fifteen years. I guess they finally must have settled it all, because they just put the place on the market.”
Bill and Maureen followed the agent up the gravel driveway, their feet flattening weeds that had sprung up from the rocky ground. They could not see the house yet, because ancient trees surrounded by thick undergrowth line both sides of driveway.
“Since the place will need some major renovation work, I think you’re in a good position to bargain. But I think you’ll agree that, once you fix it up, you’d have a fantastic home here.”
As the agent finished speaking, they came around a curve and finally saw the house itself, at the top of a small hill. It was made of stone, three stories high, with a slate roof. Bill figured there must be twenty windows he could see, except they were all boarded up.
Maureen grabbed his arm. “Oh, Bill, think what we could do with a place like this. The huge yard would be great for the children. And it’s all fenced in. Secure.”
It would be good for the children to have a safe place to play outside. Ever since Tommy had wandered off and almost been taken by that pervert in the city park, neither he nor Maureen had been willing to let any of thier three children play outside of the apartment. So Bill nodded. “Take a lot of work, but the yard would be nice. Let’s see what it’s like inside, though.”
They walked up the stone steps to the oversized wooden front door. Hanging on the door was a tarnished brass door-knocker in the shape of a fish. The agent fumbled for a moment with the look, and then pushed the door in. The hinges groaned.
“A little oil will fix that right up.” The agent stepped inside and flipped some switches a few times. “Hmm. The lights worked the last time I was here. Must be a problem with the wiring. You’d probably need to rewire the whole place anyway, but this means we can probably talk them down a few thousand more.” He flicked the switches one last time, and suddenly a chandalier lit up the entryway. “Ah, there.”
Before them was a grand staircase that split and curved to the right and the left. It was covered by faded and worn red carpeting. The hardwood floor of the room was covered in a thick layer of dust, disturbed by various footprints. There was no furniture, and the wood-paneled walls were dull. Cobwebs dangled from the lighting fixtures and rounded the corners of the doorframes.
“It’s beautiful,” said Maureen.
Bill didn’t have a decorator’s eye like his wife did, but his engineer’s mind could see that though the house was old, it was solidly built. “They just don’t make ‘m like they used to.”
The agent guided them through the house, and Bill knew they would be buying it once Maureen started assigning functions to various rooms. He began figuring out how much they would need to spend on renovations, and based on that, how much they could afford to spend on the house itself.
“Are there other interested buyers?” he asked the agent.
“Well, I did show the house to someone else the other day; some girls from the university who wanted to turn it into a sorority house. But I don’t know how serious they were. Besides, a house like this? It’s built for a family. It needs a family with kids.”