descriptive essay about an abandoned house

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Description of an Abandoned House: a Short Story

• Categories: House Short Story

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Words: 759 |

Published: Feb 12, 2019

Words: 759 | Page: 1 | 4 min read

Works Cited

• Poe, E. A. (1849). The Fall of the House of Usher. Wiley and Putnam.
• Lovecraft, H. P. (1927). The Colour Out of Space. Amazing Stories, 2(6), 447-480.
• King, S. (1977). The Shining. Doubleday.
• Jackson, S. (1959). The Haunting of Hill House. Viking Press.
• Shelley, M. (1818). Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor, & Jones.
• Matheson, R. (1954). I Am Legend. Gold Medal Books.
• Stoker, B. (1897). Dracula. Archibald Constable and Company.
• Straub, P. (1979). Ghost Story. Coward, McCann & Geoghegan.
• Morrison, T. (1987). Beloved. Alfred A. Knopf.
• Shelley, M. (1831). The Last Man. Henry Colburn and Richard Bentley.

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10 Words that Describe an Abandoned House

By Ali Dixon

A house that is no longer inhabited can make a mysterious setting in a novel across so many genres. If you need  some words  that describe an abandoned house, use the following 10 as a source of inspiration.

1. Deserted

An area devoid of life ; a wild or forbidding place.

“The quiet house appeared completely  deserted , though they still approached it with significant caution.”

“The  deserted  house stood in the middle of the empty plain. The only signs of life were the sounds of mice scuttling and scavenging for what the previous owners had left behind.”

How It Adds Description

The word deserted often implies an intention when it’s used in this context. The people who used to live in the house you’re describing may have left it on purpose, and you can use that to make your readers feel unnerved as they read about it.

2. Desolate

Empty of inhabitants or life ; joyless or sorrowful, usually because of some kind of separation; lacking comfort or hope.

“The floorboard of the  desolate  house creaked under his feet as he explored the rooms.”

“While the other houses on the street teemed with life, this one was cold and  desolate. ”

When you use the word desolate to describe an abandoned house, this can help to make the house seem even more threatening. It can also give off a real sense of bleakness to your readers.

Reflecting or displaying discouragement or listlessness ; lacking in comfort or cheer; somber or gloomy.

“The inclement bad weather on the horizon made the house appear even more  dreary .”

“The moth-eaten curtains fell still as the breeze stopped, the atmosphere in the room suddenly becoming  dreary  again.”

Describing something as dreary will instantly set a cold and gloomy mood. If you want to make sure that your readers understand that this house is something completely devoid of any life, this is a good word to use. The dreariness of the house could also represent a lack of motivation or hope in your characters.

4. Derelict

Abandoned by an occupant ; voluntarily abandoned.

“The house used to be owned by a wealthy woman who had abandoned it some years ago. Now it stood empty and  derelict .”

“The  derelict  house had not been maintained, and she worried that it would fall apart with her inside.”

The word derelict implies that something has been abandoned purposefully, which can help add an ominous tone to your description. Perhaps something inside it was dangerous that forced the previous occupant to leave it behind which your character must now discover.

Not having anything in it; uninhabited or unoccupied.

“He could imagine the house in its heyday with beautiful decorations and plenty of visitors instead of the  empty  shell he saw before him now.”

“The owner had taken all of her things with her, leaving the house now completely  empty .”

The house you’re describing may literally have nothing inside it, which makes this word a great one to use to describe it. You can also use it to make it seem like it’s empty, and then have something surprise your characters and readers later.

6. Untended

Not managed or watched over .

“The plants in the house’s  untended  garden had been left to grow wild, and now vines completely covered the south side of the house.”

“The house was large enough to warrant cleaning staff, but since it had been abandoned it had been left completely  untended , and she doubted it would ever look the way it once had again.”

Describing the abandoned house you have in your story as untended can help readers feel as though there is almost something wild about it now that no one is caring for it.

Not well-kept ; lacking in quality; faded from wear.

“The house looked  shabby —it was clear that no one had lived in it in a long time.”

“The once comfortable and beautiful furniture had faded and become  shabby  with age and time.”

Shabby is a good word to use to describe the way that the abandoned house in your story looks. By describing it using this word, you’ll give readers the sense that it’s not a good-looking house or that it’s been neglected for some time.

8. Forgotten

Disregarded ; something that people have lost remembrance for; overlooked, sometimes intentionally.

“Whoever had been left in charge of caring for the house hadn’t done so in some time, and now the house appeared to be completely  forgotten .”

“To find the old journal, they would have to sift through the abandoned,  forgotten  house at the end of the street.”

Using the word forgotten tells readers that not only is this house abandoned, but the person or people meant to care for it have disregarded its existence entirely. You can imply a much more somber mood by using this word.

9. Forsaken

To forsake something is to turn away from it entirely ; forgotten.

“They were quick to help the man in need, but they left the house itself  forsaken .”

“The house had been  forsaken  long ago, and she wasn’t eager to investigate it now to see why.”

If you describe the abandoned house in your story as forsaken, your readers will immediately get the sense that this isn’t a house that’s simply been left behind. It’s something that was intentionally abandoned or turned away from for whatever reason.

10. Neglected

Not cared for or provided with the necessary attention .

“The house had obviously been  neglected  for some time, and it was now overrun with small animals and dust.”

“Even while they were living there, the previous owners had left the house  neglected , and now that it was abandoned it looked worse than ever.”

The word neglect implies an intentional act to leave something or to not care for it. If you use this word to describe the house in your story, you can also use it as a way to symbolize that the character looking at it may also feel neglected in some way.

The Abandoned House

by Mario Levrero, recommended by Asymptote

AN INTRODUCTION BY LEE YEW LEONG

Sensuously reconstructed by Frances Riddle, Mario Levrero’s “The Abandoned House” pays tribute to the power of fiction. A former cruciverbalist and one-time “Best Untranslated Writer” according to Granta , the Uruguayan author wrote in order to “bring (his) brain to life and discover its secret passageways.” In this breathtaking short story, an abandoned house and its many secrets come alive for us via a masterfully detached narration rich in cinematic techniques (think point-of-view switches, match cuts) and truly bizarre flourishes. No ordinary house, Levrero’s fictional abode is one where little men “shimmy their bodies” out of pipes and little women, summoned by a faucet, climb up onto a plastic soap dish and “stretch out as if they were sunbathing.” A naked girl is discovered in the garden, her chest punctured by a unicorn during its annual visitation. An accountant, traumatized by a spider, disappears from his coat’s interior, the article of clothing hovering for an instant in the air, empty a la Magritte.

In a note accompanying the original publication in Asymptote (also Levrero’s debut in English), translator Frances Riddle states that Levrero’s writing has been labeled fantastical, delirious, bold, bizarre. His influences ranged from Kafka to Carroll to sci-fi, pulp fiction, surrealism, and psychoanalysis. Slippery and uncategorizable, read only by a small group of initiated readers when he was alive, Levrero once said: “I am the subject of my writing. I write to write myself; it’s an auto-construction.” In “The Abandoned House,” as the house’s select group of “fans” gather round to inspect the engineering marvel created by an ant, the last line of the story expresses Levrero’s philosophy on writing: “Everyone takes out magnifying glasses; they focus in on the details, applauding the complexity of the work and the symmetry of the sticks. I prefer to look at the structure as a whole. I think that it’s beautiful and that its shape resembles, in a way, an ant.”

Although it was written more than fifty years ago, Levrero’s story still feels very much relevant and alive, its form and poetics anticipating another gem from Electric Literature’s Recommended Reading, Steven Millhauser’s “Cathay.” “The Abandoned House” is finally a stark reminder that many treasures still await discovery in the greater canon of letters that is world literature.

Lee Yew Leong Editor-in-Chief, Asymptote

Mario Levrero

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On a downtown street lined with modern buildings, we find an old, abandoned house. The front garden contains a white fountain decorated with angels. It’s separated from the sidewalk by a wrought-iron fence: a succession of rusted spears joined by two horizontal bars. The faded pink exterior is covered in dirt and greenish grime. The windows are hidden behind dark shutters. This unassuming house holds great interest for the few people, myself among them, who know its secrets and have fallen under its influence.

A piece of pipe sticks out a few centimeters from the wall in one of the rooms. With luck or patience you may be able to see the little men, around eleven centimeters tall, peek their tiny heads out of the pipe. They observe for a moment, like someone seeing the open ocean for the first time through a ship’s porthole. Then they begin to extract themselves from the pipe, with some difficulty. They must first lie face up, grab onto the top edge of the pipe, and use their arms and legs to shimmy their bodies out.

A little man hangs from the edge of the pipe. He gets nervous as he looks down and sees the huge hole in the floor directly below him. Evidently the little men’s repeated antics have damaged the already rotten floor. Soon the small round eyes of the next little man can be seen inside the pipe as he anxiously awaits his turn. He hangs on for as long as possible, then finally he takes a deep breath, as if preparing for a dive, releases his hands from the edge of the pipe, and falls and falls.

After about a second you may think that you hear something. But those accustomed to the spectacle know that you really can’t hear anything. Some imagine a soft sound, like the bounce of a rubber ball. Others, a dry crunch of bone. The more imaginative hear a small explosion (like the striking of a match, but without the subsequent flame). There are those who have talked of implosion; they think they hear the sound of a light bulb burning out. Others claim to have clearly perceived the breaking of glass.

We’ve checked the basement, but its perimeter doesn’t seem to match up exactly with the house. We haven’t found any hole in the ceiling that could correspond to the hole in the floor through which the little men disappear. We worry that there might be a growing pile of tiny cadavers somewhere and we are anxious to find it. I have my own theory, although there’s no evidence to support it. I don’t think that the little men die when they fall and also, I believe that there are just a few little men who endlessly repeat the jump from the pipe.

One of the things that seemed curious to the discoverers and first fans of the house was the absence of spiders. You have everything else you could want in an abandoned house, but the classic spiders seemed completely uninterested in such an appropriate place. This incorrect assumption was revised upon first visit to the pantry, a room attached to the kitchen. It’s full of spiders. There are all varieties of species, shapes, sizes, colors, ages, and habits. Their webs fill the entire room with a sponge-like stuffing. If you look closely you will see that there’s not a single web that respects its due distance from the web of a rival spider. It’s permitted (it seems to be an accepted norm) to use a neighboring web as the starting point for a new one.

Perfect tranquility reigns over the pantry. The bugs wait, some in the centers of their webs, others on the periphery, others scout the ceiling or walls. It’s not particularly interesting for the spectator. The biggest spiders don’t have webs but instead a kind of nest on the floor. They can only be seen on very hot days, or on certain nights, or at random times that we can’t find any explanation for. We think the spiders stay in the pantry because the conditions are extremely favorable; they seem to be opposed to leaving at all. We’ve observed some hesitating in the doorway. We’ve seen others step out, only to immediately rush back inside, as if pulled by an irresistible force or driven by panic. The group of webs is a lovely sight which becomes more beautiful with the changes in light from a small window as the day advances and dies. The humidity of the room affects the beauty of the webs, as does the mood of the spectator, and other inconceivable factors.

An insect falls into one of the many traps: everything vibrates. Sometimes we release flies from jars to initiate the spectacle, but in general we prefer to wait for the conditions to emerge by chance. First there’s a slight buzzing, almost imperceptible, produced by the insect in the web. The bug becomes more and more anxious and its attempts to free itself are increasingly violent. The movement is transmitted through the system of webs. A rhythmic motion radiates outward and then returns: it’s like throwing a rock into a pond but observing the effect in three dimensions.

The spiders react: first the owner of the web that has trapped the insect approaches the victim and begins the usual routine. The neighboring spiders watch closely. This quick and delicate movement, this chore, produces a pronounced effect in the group of webs. All the other spiders, who have felt their webs vibrate but haven’t located the victim, begin to search frantically, peering into other webs, furious when they find nothing there. Then the show really gets good. We are spellbound, in a kind of trance. Some of us dance (because there is a rhythm, increasingly insane), others cover their eyes because they can’t take it. I have personally had to stop someone who, hypnotized, tried to enter the pantry. I found out they committed suicide a while later, at night, in the sea. I’ve said that it’s hard for the spiders to leave the pantry and that they never go very far or for very long. There are exceptions, which we’ll see later.

We discovered by accident that underneath the pink wallpaper in the bedroom, there was another wallpaper pattern. Immediately a team formed, led by Ramirez. Over several nights of careful work the pink was totally removed and the next layer was exposed: greens predominate. It’s a beautiful rural landscape, impressively realistic: we can almost smell the fresh country air. The damaged parts of the wallpaper were expertly restored by Alfredo. He’s a quiet guy with a mustache and we didn’t suspect that he had any talent whatsoever.

Influenced by the uncovered wallpaper we felt the need to organize Sunday picnics. We got up early and brought baskets and folding chairs. Juancito, who works at a grocery store, got us a Coca-Cola ice chest. There was red wine, a battery-powered record player, kids with nets to catch butterflies, butterflies — provided by an entomologist friend on the condition that they be returned unharmed — brightly-colored dresses, couples, ants, a few small spiders (that we took from the pantry for a little while) and other things.

The main attraction was one of Chueco’s inventions. He’s a construction worker in his free time and was able to build us a gas grill that miraculously eliminates smoke. Although it serves no practical purpose, the tree that Alfredo fashioned from a synthetic material was also highly praised. I sat on the floor, in a corner, drinking mate . I don’t like picnics, but the show entertained me.

Something pulses, something grows in the attic.

It’s suspected to be green, it’s feared to have eyes.

It’s presumed to be strong, soft, translucent, evil.

We can’t, we shouldn’t, we mustn’t look at it.

To speak of it we use only adjectives and we don’t make eye contact.

We don’t climb the creaky stairway; we don’t stop to listen at the door; we don’t turn the doorknob; we don’t enter the attic.

LITTLE WOMEN

To see the little men that jump from the pipe we have to wait and wait. On the other hand, all we have to do is fill up the bathroom sink with warm water, turn on the faucet, and in under a minute the little women start to flow out. They are very small and they are naked. They don’t cover themselves when they see us. They swim freely, play in the water. They climb up onto the plastic soap dish that we’ve placed there and they stretch out as if they were sunbathing. They are beautiful without exception; their bodies are magnificent and exciting. They dive into the water and swim and splash and climb back up on the soap dish to stretch out.

When they get bored they work together to pull up the sink stopper and they let themselves slide down the drain. There’s one with green eyes that’s always the last to go. She looks at me, almost with regret, before she plunges down the drain.

AN EXCEPTION

One afternoon we had been investigating the superimposed wallpapering in the big bedroom. It was Ramirez, accountant at a fairly important factory, who was able to make out the fifth layer. He correctly deduced the total number of layers, as we proved later upon uncovering five square centimeters of wallpaper. I won’t go into detail on the last layer (let me remind you that there are ladies among us) but I can assure you that it was an erotic scene, practically pornographic. This discovery leads us to believe that the abandoned house once functioned as a brothel.

On his way home that evening an elderly woman ran behind Ramirez for quite a while. She eventually caught up with him and explained, panting and upset, that he had a huge black spider on the back of his jacket, almost five centimeters in diameter. We phoned him repeatedly to invite him to the abandoned house but Ramirez made up excuses not to come. Finally, he explained what had happened and we understood. He says that when the old lady told him about the spider, he didn’t have the wherewithal to take off his jacket. He simply fled from the coat’s interior and the article of clothing hovered for an instant in the air, empty. Ramirez claims that a half block away he heard the soft sound that his jacket made when it fell heavily to the ground.

Much of what attracts me to the house is its serene and diligent collapse. I measure the cracks and confirm their advance. The blackish borders of the water stains extend. Pieces of plaster come loose from the walls and ceiling, and the entire structure has a slight, almost imperceptible, leftward slant. It is an inevitable and beautiful collapse.

We can’t come to an agreement on the size of the garden. We do agree that viewed from the street, or from the path that leads to the house, it appears to be about eighty square meters (8m x 10m). The trouble begins from the moment we step in among its weeds, its ivies, its flowerless plants, its insects, the lines of ants, the vines and giant ferns, the rays of sun that filter through the canopy of the tall eucalyptus trees, the bear tracks, the chatter of the parrots, the snakes coiled around the branches that raise their heads and whistle when we pass, the unbearable heat, the thirst, the darkness, the roar of the leopards, the falls of the machete that clears the way, the tall boots we wear, the humidity, our helmets, the luxurious vegetation, the night, the fear, the fact that we can’t find the way out, the fact that we can’t find the way out.

None of us are able to shake the suspicion that the house must hold an old and fabulous treasure, composed of precious stones and heavy gold coins. There are no maps, nor clues of any kind. I count myself among the most skeptical, although I have often allowed myself to daydream and I even imagine clever unsuspected corners where the treasure might be hidden. The fact that I don’t participate in the official treasure hunts sets me apart from the rest. I don’t even search when I’m alone (as I know many do).

I thoroughly enjoy these hunts. I lie in a lounge chair that I bring from my house especially for the occasion and I place it in an appropriate location, generally in the main living room. I watch, drinking mate and smoking cigarettes, as they spread out methodically — the women through the house, the men in the basement — and they search. The ladies in their happy dresses rummage in the rubble or dig inside the furniture coverings. I smile when I see them search the pieces of furniture that they know we brought in ourselves to feed the hurricanes. The men, in their blue uniforms, tap the walls of the basement looking for a sound that is hollow or different. But all the sounds are hollow, and different from one another. The tapping makes music; it reminds me of the sounds made from bottles filled with different levels of liquid. Soon it seems that everything fits together and the music becomes rhythmic and the women go up and down and it looks like they’re dancing and I think again of the musical bottles, now containing liquors of all different colors, all transparent and sweet.

It had to be a woman, Leonor, that neurotic old maid, who turned on the taps of the bidet. I don’t know why she joined our group (she’s afraid of the house). Everyone knows that there is no running water and that it’s dangerous to go around turning on faucets without warning. The little women come out of the sink. And then there’s the rubbery yellow thing in the bathtub. It blows up like a balloon and doesn’t stop getting bigger until you turn off the faucet. Then it comes loose and floats around us for a little while. Then it rises up and sticks to the ceiling and stays there until one day we come in and it’s gone. If you flush the toilet, by pulling the long chain with a wooden handle, you hear a tremendous, hair-raising scream. It’s so loud we worry about complaints from the neighbors.

We heard a scream and we confused it with the shriek of the toilet but no, it was Leonor, running and pointing toward the bathroom. We followed her and discovered a long thin earthworm crawling out of the bidet. More and more of the earthworm kept appearing; it seemed to go on forever. It was already a meter and a half long, easily. We waited to see when it would end but it kept getting longer and longer as it dragged itself across the floor, heading towards the other rooms.

We cut it into pieces but each new section remained fully alive; the new earthworms escaped in all directions. We had to sweep them up and throw them down the drain. The first worm kept coming out and soon new black spots began to peek out from other holes. We tried to turn off the faucet but it was stuck. No one was brave enough to change the washer, let alone call a plumber. We began to think that we’d have no other choice but to close up the bathroom and be forever deprived of the spectacular little women. Leonor was accused of having done it on purpose. Finally, someone had the idea (and the courage) to force each of the earthworm heads into the drain of the bidet itself. This seemed fine with the earthworms. They continued to crawl in and out of the bidet. They’re still at it now, a continuous and never-ending movement. Someone who doesn’t know the story of the bidet would look at it and see a strange horizontal rain of shiny black water.

There’s a shake of ashes and cigarette butts in the dining room fireplace. Then it’s best to leave, or lock yourself in the bedroom, or as a last resort, stay pressed into the corner with your head between your knees and your hands over your head.

Dirt, papers, objects begin to twirl slowly in the center of the room like autumn leaves. There is a brusque drop in temperature and the wind blows harder. Then everything lifts into the air and swirls towards the center. The furniture is pulled in and the walls shake, loosening the flakes of plaster. The dirt suffocates us and irritates our eyes and makes us thirsty. If the hurricane catches you by surprise you could become trapped in its funnel, twirling round and round, sometimes spit out against a wall, violently, only to bounce back to the center again and again until you die and even after you’re dead.

Once calm is restored, I leave the corner and I walk amongst the rubble, the broken vases, the overturned furniture. Everything is beautifully out of place. The dining room seems exhausted, as if after a fit of vomiting. It seems to breathe easier.

THE UNICORN

We think the grass attracts it but we’re not sure and our theories don’t have the slightest scientific basis. But it’s interesting to observe some facts. We have classified the grass (a job carried out by Angel, the vegetarian) as a variety of St. Augustine called Martynia louisiana, native to North America. It seems to grow only in this garden. It has large flowers, yellow with purple spots. It bears fruit once a year: a pointed capsule shaped like a horn. Hence its popular name, Unicorn Plant, and from there, according to us, the annual visit of the animal to our garden. Despite patient vigilance we’ve never actually seen it. But we have noticed the grass cut by teeth. We’ve discovered holes in the dirt, as if produced by the twisted point of an umbrella in the elevated bank of a mud puddle. We’ve seen hoof prints; we’ve found fresh manure. One night the sound of a soft whinny reached us. The next morning we found Luisa. She was sixteen years old and had joined our group only days prior. Her chest was punctured by an enormous uni-hole; she was naked, monstrously raped.

You are a door-to-door salesman. You peddle books or memberships to medical societies. You knock on all the doors. You try to get into all the houses. It’s late afternoon. You see a wrought-iron fence and you hesitate for an instant. But you are determined, and an unkempt garden does not dissuade you. You push open the gate. You walk up the path that divides the garden in two; you stop directly in front of the door and you look for the doorbell. You don’t find it, but you see a bronze doorknocker. It’s shaped like a hand, with long thin fingers. There’s a ring on the largest finger and the index finger is missing two phalanges. The finger did not break but was intentionally designed this way. You pause. But you remember your lessons from salesman school, and some previous experience of your own, and you pluck up your courage. You lift the knocker, making it turn on its hinge, and you let it fall: one, two, three times against its base, also bronze. The sound booms through the house.

You are confused. We know all too well from our sad experiments that the knocker causes many strange sounds to echo through the house. You will inevitably think you hear a dry, hoarse voice. It insists that you open the door and come in. Your confusion lasts a few seconds but in the end your hope gets the better of you and you make the grave mistake.

When we arrive we find only your briefcase, on a chair, or on the floor. We don’t need to open it to determine your line of work. We gather in the dining room for a moment of silence. Someone invariably sheds a tear. Someone always suggests that we report the case to the authorities. We convince them that we would gain nothing and we would surely lose the house. Then someone pipes up to suggest that we hang a warning sign on the front door. The older members of the group have to explain, once again, that this only increases the number of victims and that sooner or later the string of curious idiots will get us kicked out of the house.

We finally agree that these incidents are regrettable but we can do nothing to prevent them. Tired of the sorrow, guilty consciences, and useless arguing, we decide to take the issue a little more lightly. After all, we agree, there are too many door-to-door salesmen in the world anyway. Later, someone takes your briefcase and throws it unceremoniously into the well in the back yard.

In the garden there is, of course, a variety of ants. Periodically, we’re pleased to find a new ant bed where we plant a red flag. We’ve noticed that the ants march along the cracks towards a location under the house, in the foundation. We think this contributes to the slow collapse.

We take care of the most important plants, pruning them and giving the discarded leaves to the ants. The philosopher objects. He says that we are contributing to the weakening of the species by making their tasks easier and gradually reducing their capacity for work. There is one lady who thinks we should simply exterminate them with ant poison but we know this method doesn’t work.

What happens in the house is different. The few ants that live inside don’t seem to have any work to do. They wander around lost in thought, half-heartedly pacing a wall or floorboard. We’ve discovered that they live alone, in some isolated crack or corner, and they feed on small things that they find. We’ve never seen them gathering or storing food. Occasionally they are spotted in pairs, but the relationships appear to be unstable.

There’s one ant that we identify by a little bit of white paint on her backside. She spends several days gathering sticks and other small objects, never once stopping to rest as she completes her construction. We don’t know what it is but it’s not a nest and does not appear to serve any practical purpose for the ant. She crawls all over it in ecstasy for a while, then she forgets about it and returns to her contemplative state. If by accident or clumsiness the structure is destroyed, even partially, the ant becomes infuriated and walks around crazed for hours.

Archie, the engineer, who has done a detailed study of the ant’s construction, concludes that it’s a major feat of engineering. He says that it would be impossible to complete such a project without advanced knowledge of mathematics. He has taken some notes which he thinks will revolutionize modern bridge-building techniques. He believes that the ant is acting out of instinct, building bridges where they’re not needed.

I don’t think they’re bridges. I have my own ideas on the matter. Everyone takes out magnifying glasses; they focus in on the details, applauding the complexity of the work and the symmetry of the sticks. I prefer to look at the structure as a whole. I think that it’s beautiful and that its shape reflects, in a way, an ant.

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Essay on Abandoned House

Students are often asked to write an essay on Abandoned House in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on Abandoned House

What is an abandoned house.

An abandoned house is a home that no one lives in anymore. People might leave a house for many reasons. They might move to a new place, or they might not have enough money to keep it. Sometimes, they leave because the house is in bad shape. Over time, these houses can become very old and worn out.

Look of an Abandoned House

Abandoned houses often look scary or sad. They might have broken windows, peeling paint, or overgrown gardens. Inside, they might be full of dust and cobwebs. They are usually very quiet, except for the sounds of wind or animals.

Abandoned Houses and Stories

Many people think abandoned houses are full of stories. For example, they might wonder about the people who used to live there. They might also imagine ghosts or treasures hidden inside. These stories can make abandoned houses seem exciting and mysterious.

Abandoned Houses and Nature

Abandoned houses can also be important for nature. For example, plants might grow in the garden, or animals might make nests inside. In this way, abandoned houses can become new homes for wildlife.

In conclusion, abandoned houses are more than just empty buildings. They can tell us about the past, spark our imagination, and even help nature. Even though they might look sad or scary, they are also full of possibilities.

250 Words Essay on Abandoned House

An abandoned house is a home that no one lives in anymore. People may leave their houses for many reasons. Some may move to a new place. Others may not be able to take care of their house. Over time, these houses become empty and start to fall apart.

An abandoned house often looks old and scary. The paint might be peeling off. The windows may be broken. Grass and plants may grow all over the place. You might even see animals like birds or mice living there.

Why are Houses Abandoned?

There can be many reasons why a house is abandoned. Sometimes, people move to a new place and leave their old house behind. Other times, the house may be too old or damaged to live in. In some cases, the owner of the house may have passed away and there is no one to take care of it.

What Happens to Abandoned Houses?

Abandoned houses can become a problem. They can be unsafe and bring down the value of other houses in the area. Sometimes, the city or town will step in to clean up the house. They might fix it up and sell it, or they might tear it down to make room for something new.

Many people find abandoned houses interesting. They often wonder about the stories behind these houses. Who lived there? Why did they leave? These questions can spark the imagination and lead to creative stories and adventures.

In conclusion, an abandoned house is more than just an empty building. It’s a piece of history, a mystery to solve, and a symbol of change.

500 Words Essay on Abandoned House

Introduction.

An abandoned house is a place where people once lived but have moved away and left it empty. It can often be seen in areas where people have moved to new places for jobs or other reasons. These houses are like silent stories, waiting to be told. They are full of mystery and can ignite curiosity in anyone who passes by.

The Look of an Abandoned House

An abandoned house usually looks old and worn out. The paint on the walls might be peeling off, and the windows are often broken or boarded up. The garden, if there is one, is usually overgrown with weeds and wild plants. The house might be leaning to one side or the other because no one has taken care of it for a long time. It’s like a ghost of its past, standing alone and forgotten.

The Feeling Around an Abandoned House

The feeling around an abandoned house can be eerie. It’s quiet and still, as if time has stopped. You might feel a sense of sadness, thinking about the people who once lived there and the lives they led. At the same time, there’s a sense of mystery. You might wonder why the house was left empty and what happened to the people who lived there.

The Inside of an Abandoned House

Inside an abandoned house, things are usually in a state of decay. The furniture, if any is left, is often broken or covered in dust. The floor might be strewn with old newspapers, broken glass, or other rubbish. The air is usually stale, and there might be a musty smell. Sometimes, you might find old photos or letters, which can give you a glimpse into the lives of the people who once lived there.

The Stories of Abandoned Houses

Every abandoned house has a story to tell. It could be a story of a family who had to move away because of a job or a story of an old person who lived alone and passed away. Sometimes, the stories are happy ones, of people who moved to a better place or found a new start. Other times, the stories can be sad or even scary. But each story is a piece of history, a slice of life that once was.

Abandoned houses are more than just empty buildings. They are reminders of the past, filled with stories and memories. They can make us feel sad, curious, or even scared. But most of all, they make us think about the people who once lived there and the lives they led. They remind us that every house, every place, has a story. And even though the house is empty now, its story lives on.

Word Count: 500

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IGCSE Descriptive Essay - The Abandoned house

Describe what happens and how you feel as you make your journey to shelter..

Descriptive Essay On The Abandoned House

We walked into the abandoned house, entangling ourselves in sticky cobwebs which were draped over the door's metal frame. The dim-lit house was like the Sahara desert on a cold night. Old, shredded curtains hung from windows left and right, foreign liquid dripped from ceilings unto the dusty marble floors, ancient chandeliers hung from the wooden ceiling, almost breaking off. "Why does it smell like rotten paper in here?" Sarah asked, her face scrunching up and her lips forming a snarl. "Yeah and why did we have to be picked to clean this dump?" Danny added. "I don't know. Let's just get it over with," I told them. A plethora of breeze blew from an open window on the far left wall. The house had this moldy scent that made my nose itch. The walls had ancient paint peeling off the stained walls. We got to work after taking a peep at all the other vacant rooms in the house. Each room had a significant scent to it. I choose to do …show more content…

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The Abandoned House

• An Hoang, Grade 6

I looked nostalgically at the old abandoned house that was standing there gloomily. The house used to be alive and cheerful but it was now forgotten and had an air of melancholy. Cobwebs littered the house, with the wooden roof and walls falling in. Sunlight no longer danced through the windows and sounds of laughter were no longer heard; all that was left was the remains of a long since dead house. The lights stared downwards miserably at a table that would never serve anyone ever again, with chairs that had not been warm in many years. Dust blew past the dark hallways, a sad reminder that this house would never be whole again. The house was not always dead. I can forlornly recall all of my visits to this once beautiful house. Every summer holiday, my parents had brought me to this house, my grandparents’ house. I had lived in the city, so the experience of living in a rural area was very different and yet it was so much fun. The bright sunshine, the gentle wind and the quietness that had been introduced to me in that wonderful house had all come to be things that I loved. After the first visit, I was always enthusiastically waiting to visit what had become my second home. I remember being so eager to help out, trying to help in any way I could, like attempting to help paint the house with grandpa, handing the right bolts and nails for fixing the fence or collecting the eggs from the hens with grandma. I had almost always messed up everything I tried to do but my grandparents had kindly taught me again how to do it properly. The house that my grandparents once lived in had so many good memories of my fun and carefree childhood that I knew that I would have to visit it again one day. After waiting patiently for ten years, I had went to the address that I used to happily go to every year. At first, I thought I had gone to the wrong house and yet, after going back and forth, I had come to the horrible realisation that the destroyed, abandoned house I was looking at was the right house. I could not believe my eyes as I mentally recounted how the now ruined house used to be when I was but a young child. The house was always bright and had young, hyperactive children (including me) running around, playing tag. The house was extensively cared for as my obsessive compulsive grandmother and my effervescent grandfather treated like an additional child. Flowers of all colours filled the elegant garden, brightening the entire area. In that one simple house, birthdays had been celebrated, laughs were shared and fireworks were watched. The house was the epitome of liveliness and yet it was now dead. It was now merely a shadow of its former glory, for the house was no longer alive, and never would be again.

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Writing Nestling

How To Describe A House In Writing (11 Best Ways)

Describing a house in writing is more than just a portrayal of bricks and mortar; it’s an intricate art form, a literary journey through the architecture of imagination.

In this craft, writers have the power to create vibrant, evocative spaces that transcend mere physical descriptions and serve as living canvases for the stories they wish to tell.

Whether it’s a cozy cottage nestled in the heart of a forest, a grand mansion steeped in history, or a modern city apartment with all the trappings of contemporary life, the process of painting the house with words is an opportunity to evoke emotions, kindle memories, and transport readers into the very essence of a narrative.

This exploration, much like a tour through a house’s rooms, is a journey through the senses, an unraveling of histories, and a passage into the heart of storytelling itself.

In this guide, we will embark on a journey of understanding and mastering the art of describing a house in writing , encompassing all its intricate facets to bring vivid life to our stories.

Table of Contents

How To Describe A House In Writing

Describing a house in writing involves capturing its key features, atmosphere, and characteristics. Here’s a step-by-step process for doing so:

Select Your Perspective

Decide whether you are describing the house as an objective observer, a potential buyer, or someone with emotional ties to it. Your perspective will influence the tone and focus of your description.

Observe and Take Notes

Spend some time in and around the house, noting down its details. Pay attention to both the exterior and interior. Take notes on architectural elements, landscaping, and the overall condition.

Start with an Introduction

Begin your description with a captivating introduction. Mention the location, any unique historical or architectural aspects, and the overall vibe of the house.

Exterior Description

Describe the architectural style, such as Victorian, modern, colonial, etc. Mention the size and layout of the house, including the number of stories. Highlight any distinctive exterior features like a front porch, dormer windows, or a landscaped garden. Comment on the condition of the exterior – is it well-maintained or in need of repairs?

Interior Description:

Walk through each room, starting with the main living spaces. Describe the layout, size, and purpose of each room (kitchen, living room, bedrooms, etc.).Note any unique or standout features, like a fireplace, hardwood floors, or high ceilings.

Discuss the decor, paint colors, and overall interior design. Emphasize the lighting, natural and artificial, and how it contributes to the ambiance.

Atmosphere and Feel:

Discuss the overall atmosphere of the house. Is it cozy, spacious, elegant, or modern? Describe how it makes you feel or the emotions it evokes.

Mention any scents or sounds that are particularly notable, such as the scent of freshly baked cookies or the sound of a crackling fireplace.

Outdoor Features:

Include details about the yard, garden, or outdoor spaces. Discuss any amenities like a pool, patio, or outdoor kitchen. Note the views from different areas of the property.

History and Background:

If applicable, provide some historical or personal context. Has the house been in the family for generations, or is it a new construction with an interesting backstory?

Maintenance and Upkeep:

Mention the condition of the house, whether it’s well-maintained, in need of renovation, or recently updated.

Conclusion:

Summarize the key points of your description. Mention any standout features or elements that make this house unique. Convey your overall impression and whether you would recommend it to someone with specific preferences.

Proofread and Edit

After writing your description, proofread it for clarity, coherence, and grammar. Make any necessary revisions to ensure the text flows well.

By following these steps , you can create a comprehensive and engaging description of a house in writing, whether for a real estate listing, a personal project, or any other purpose.

Pre-writing Preparation

Pre-writing preparation is the enchanted gateway where your imagination takes its first exhilarating steps into the realm of creativity.

It’s your backstage pass to the show of words, where you gather sparks of inspiration, setting them alight like stars in the night sky of your mind.

With a mood board as your treasure map and the world as your canvas, you define the very purpose of your words, crafting a compass that will guide your reader through the uncharted terrain of your imagination.

In this ephemeral moment before pen meets paper or fingers touch keys, you are the architect of dreams, the weaver of tales, and the creator of worlds.

Observation and Note-Taking

Observation and note-taking are your secret agents in the espionage of reality, your magnifying glass in the quest for hidden treasures.

They’re like the watchful sentinels who stand guard at the gateway between your senses and your soul. As you venture into the world, they capture the minuscule whispers of the wind, the symphony of colors dancing in a sunset, and the delicate aroma of memories tucked in the corners of a room.

In their meticulous scribbles and sketches, you unearth the fossils of emotions and the jewels of detail, piecing together the puzzle of existence.

These notes are the breadcrumbs that lead you back to the forgotten realms of your experiences, and when the time comes to craft your tales, they transform into the keys unlocking the doors of enchantment for your readers.

Visit a real house or imagine one in detail

Whether you choose to visit a tangible, real house or conjure one from the ethereal fabric of your imagination, the journey is equally captivating.

Stepping into a real house is like embarking on an archaeological expedition, unearthing layers of history and stories embedded in its walls.

Each creaking floorboard and fading wallpaper tells a unique narrative, and your senses become detectives seeking clues to its past.

Conversely, when you create a house within your mind, you become an architect, fashioning every brick and beam with meticulous intention.

You have the power to construct a world from the ground up, shaping the very essence of your characters’ lives. Whether real or imagined, these houses are portals to parallel worlds, inviting you to explore the infinite possibilities of human experience and imagination.

Use all senses for a comprehensive description

To paint a truly immersive picture, one must employ all the senses, as they are the palette of life’s canvas. It’s not just about what the eye beholds; it’s the symphony of sensations that makes a description come alive.

The sight captures the grandeur of a house’s architecture, the play of colors, and the interplay of light and shadow. Sound brings us the rustle of leaves in the breeze or the creaking of a wooden floorboard. The subtle fragrances, both inviting and peculiar, breathe life into the atmosphere.

Touch reveals the texture of walls, the warmth of sunlight, and the coolness of marble floors. Even taste, though less common, can be evoked by describing the air’s flavor, or perhaps the lingering essence of a meal in the air.

When all these senses converge, a description transcends words and becomes an experience, transporting the reader into the very heart of the scene.

Organizing Your Description

Organizing your description is like composing a symphony of words, where you’re the conductor orchestrating the reader’s journey through the labyrinth of your imagination.

It’s the blueprint, the road map, the compass that ensures your storytelling ship sails smoothly through the unpredictable seas of prose.

Every carefully chosen word, each sensory detail, and every pause is a note in the grand opus of your description.

Your canvas is the reader’s mind, and you’re the master artist, crafting their visual and emotional experience. It’s not just about what you say, but how you say it, creating a literary choreography that dances through the reader’s senses, leaving an indelible footprint in their imagination.

Describing the Exterior

Describing the exterior of a house is like capturing the essence of a soul in architectural form. It’s the first impression, the handshake of the building with the world.

The exterior tells a story, whispering secrets of the past through the choice of materials, the lines and curves of its design, and the weathered patina of time.

Each brick, window, and shingle is a character in the drama of its existence, and the surrounding landscape is the stage upon which this architectural performance unfolds.

From the ornate grandeur of a Victorian mansion to the sleek, modern lines of a minimalist marvel, the exterior is a canvas where the artist of words paints an evocative masterpiece, inviting readers to wander through its living history.

Architectural style and historical context

Describing the architectural style and historical context of a house is like opening a time capsule of human ingenuity. It’s a journey through the annals of history, a glimpse into the tapestry of culture, and an exploration of the evolving language of design.

Architectural style speaks volumes about the era in which a house was born, whether it’s the Gothic spires of the medieval period or the sleek lines of mid-century modernism.

Each style is a chapter in the grand narrative of human civilization, embodying the values, aspirations, and artistic trends of its time.

As a writer, delving into historical context is like becoming an archaeologist, unearthing the buried treasures of a bygone age.

It’s a form of storytelling that breathes life into inanimate structures, giving them a voice that whispers the secrets of their creation and the echoes of those who once dwelled within their walls.

Setting and surroundings

The setting and surroundings of a house are the ever-shifting stage upon which the story of its existence unfolds.

They are the embrace of nature, the neighborhood’s heartbeat, and the silent witnesses to the ebb and flow of life.

Whether nestled in the tranquil solitude of a forest, standing proud in the heart of a bustling city, or perched on the edge of a windswept cliff, the setting and surroundings shape the house’s character and breathe life into its narrative.

The landscape, the neighboring structures, and the natural elements provide context, framing the house’s personality like a portrait.

It’s here that writers wield the power of description to transport readers to a specific time and place, immersing them in the atmosphere, and allowing them to feel the unique pulse of the world in which the house resides.

The setting is not just a backdrop; it’s a character in its own right, influencing the house’s story and enriching the reader’s journey through its vividly painted world.

Describing the Interior

Describing the interior of a house is like embarking on a journey through the corridors of the soul. It’s a magical odyssey where each room becomes a chapter, and every piece of furniture is a character with its own story to tell.

As a writer, you are an architect of emotions, a curator of ambiance, and a storyteller of human lives etched into the walls.

From the cozy, sunlit nooks where laughter and secrets are shared, to the dark, mysterious chambers hiding their enigmas, the interior is a symphony of textures, colors, and emotions.

With your words, you guide the reader through the labyrinth of emotions and memories, making them not just observers but participants in the unfolding drama of a house’s interior, where the past and present mingle in a beautifully chaotic dance of existence.

Entry and first impressions

The entry of a house is the portal to its soul, a threshold where the story of a home begins.

It’s the first chapter in the narrative of the interior, and much like the opening lines of a novel, it sets the tone for what lies beyond.

As the author of this description, you hold the power to guide the reader’s senses as they cross the threshold. The door, whether weathered and welcoming or imposing and ornate, is the guardian of secrets.

The lighting, whether dappled with warm sunshine or bathed in the cool glow of moonlight, casts a particular mood.

The decor, the scent, the arrangement of objects – all these elements come together to offer the reader their initial impression, like the first chords of a symphony.

The entry is where anticipation and curiosity blend, inviting readers to step deeper into the unfolding narrative of the house, each footfall echoing with the promise of discovery.

Character and personality of the interior

The character and personality of the interior are like the beating heart of a house, the very essence of its soul unveiled.

Every room is a chapter in the house’s unique story, and it carries its own distinct character. Whether it’s the cozy charm of a well-loved family room with threadbare sofas and walls adorned with cherished photographs, or the elegance of a meticulously designed library filled with leather-bound books and antique furniture, each space holds its own secrets and emotions.

The personality of the interior is a reflection of the people who have dwelled within its walls, their passions, and their idiosyncrasies.

As a writer, your words have the power to breathe life into these spaces, evoking the atmosphere, the history, and the emotions that have unfolded within them.

The interior of a house is a multi-dimensional character in itself, and it’s through your descriptive prose that it takes on a role, engaging readers and beckoning them to explore its depths, its quirks, and its undeniable allure.

Using Metaphor and Symbolism

Using metaphor and symbolism in writing is akin to infusing a tapestry of enigma and depth into the very fabric of your narrative.

It’s the literary equivalent of an artist applying layers of paint, revealing more than meets the eye. Metaphors are the breadcrumbs leading readers down a poetic path, allowing them to dance between the lines of reality and abstraction.

Symbolism, on the other hand, breathes life into the mundane, turning everyday objects and settings into gateways to deeper meanings.

These tools are the magic keys to the castle of imagination, granting access to hidden chambers of thought, emotion, and understanding.

Writers who wield metaphors and symbolism create a symbiotic relationship with their readers, inviting them to decode, interpret, and become an integral part of the storytelling experience.

The words become a world within themselves, teeming with secrets, revelations, and a symphony of resonating truths.

Dialogue and Character Interaction

Dialogue and character interaction in writing are like the intricate choreography of a dance, where the words become the elegant waltz of storytelling. It’s not just a means of communication; it’s the vibrant heartbeat of your narrative.

When characters engage in conversation, they reveal their true essence, their desires, and their vulnerabilities. Dialogue becomes the window to their souls, allowing readers to eavesdrop on the symphony of emotions and conflicts that course through the story.

The art of crafting dialogue isn’t just about the words spoken; it’s the unspoken sentiments, the silences pregnant with meaning, and the electricity that crackles in the air when characters collide.

As a writer, you are the conductor of this grand opera, orchestrating the verbal ballet that unravels the plot, deepens connections, and thrusts the reader into the tumultuous world of your characters.

In the dance of dialogue, you hold the power to make your characters breathe, laugh, cry, and love, drawing readers ever deeper into the rich tapestry of your narrative.

Highlighting how characters interact with the house

Characters and their interaction with the house are like a silent dialogue, a dance of emotions played out against the backdrop of architecture.

The way they navigate the hallways, touch the walls, or choose a particular spot to sit reveals their relationships, their histories, and their innermost thoughts. Each creaking floorboard, every beam of sunlight that catches their eye, becomes a reflection of their mood.

In a way, the house itself is a character, responding to their presence, bearing witness to their joys and sorrows. As a writer, you have the privilege of crafting these interactions, using them to illustrate the profound connection between the characters and their environment.

Whether it’s a comforting embrace or a source of tension, the house becomes more than bricks and mortar; it’s an essential part of the story, amplifying the drama and resonating with the emotions of those who inhabit it.

Emphasizing the house’s role in the narrative

The house in a narrative isn’t just a setting; it’s a living, breathing entity with a pivotal role to play. It’s more than bricks and beams; it’s a silent character, a reflection of the story’s soul.

The house often holds secrets, serves as a repository of memories, and even becomes a mirror to the characters’ inner worlds. It can be a sanctuary, a prison, or a puzzle to be unraveled.

The house’s architecture, history, and atmosphere can shape the plot, infusing it with mystery, nostalgia, or a sense of foreboding.

As a writer, emphasizing the house’s role is about crafting its presence in a way that makes it integral to the narrative’s progression.

It can be a catalyst for change, a witness to dramatic events, or a source of conflict. The house is more than walls; it’s a silent companion in the characters’ journey, a bearer of secrets, and an anchor in the storm of storytelling.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) about How To Describe A House In Writing

Why is it important to effectively describe a house in writing.

Describing a house in writing is crucial for creating immersive, emotionally resonant narratives. It provides readers with vivid imagery, sets the tone, and breathes life into the settings and characters.

How can I make my house descriptions more engaging and unique?

To make your descriptions stand out, consider the house’s historical context, architectural style, and the way it interacts with your characters. Utilize metaphors, symbolism, and sensory details to add depth and intrigue.

How do I balance descriptive prose with storytelling in house descriptions?

Striking a balance involves integrating descriptions into the narrative flow. Instead of overwhelming readers with details, make the descriptions relevant to the story, characters, or themes.

What should I keep in mind when describing the exterior of a house?

When describing the exterior, consider the house’s architectural features, historical context, surrounding environment, and how these elements contribute to the atmosphere of your story.

How can I effectively convey the character and personality of the interior in my writing?

Focus on the details that reflect the residents’ lives, emotions, and history. Describe the layout, furnishings, and ambiance, allowing readers to connect with the characters through the space.

Is it necessary to use metaphors and symbolism in house descriptions?

While not mandatory, metaphors and symbolism can add depth and layers to your descriptions. They can evoke emotions, connect to the story’s themes, and make the descriptions more engaging.

What role does the house play in a narrative, and how can I emphasize it effectively?

The house can be a character in itself, influencing the plot, and reflecting the characters’ journeys. To emphasize its role, ensure that it interacts with the story, the characters, and the themes in a meaningful way.

How can I ensure my house descriptions are not overly detailed or boring for readers?

To prevent excessive detail, consider your audience and purpose, and select relevant details that contribute to the atmosphere, plot, or character development. Engage beta readers for feedback to find the right balance.

Are there any resources or books to help me improve my skills in describing houses in writing?

Yes, numerous resources, books, and articles provide insights into descriptive writing. Some recommended reads include “The Elements of Style” by Strunk and White, and “The Descriptive Writer’s Guide” by James J. Cramer. Online writing communities and workshops can also offer valuable guidance.

Can you provide any tips for aspiring writers looking to master the art of describing houses in their stories?

Certainly! Start by practicing descriptive writing regularly. Be observant, research, and create mood boards for inspiration. Read books known for their descriptive prowess and seek feedback from peers to continually refine your skills. Writing is a journey, and mastering the art of description takes time and dedication.

Describing a house in writing is more than mere description; it’s an alchemical process that turns words into living spaces, and readers into explorers of the imagination.

Throughout this journey, we’ve uncovered the architectural wonders and emotional landscapes that a well-described house can unveil. We’ve seen how each room, each brick, and every scent carries significance, weaving into the narrative’s tapestry.

The house, be it a humble abode or a sprawling estate, becomes a silent character, a guardian of stories, and a vessel for the human experience.

As writers, we hold the keys to this mansion of creativity, and through the art of description, we open doors to entire worlds. So, as you embark on your own literary quests, remember the power of a well-described house to anchor, enchant, and resonate with your readers.

With every detail, you invite them to walk through the door and join you in the enchanting realm of your storytelling.

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Descriptive Essay On An Abandoned House

• Visual Arts
• Environment
• Descriptive Essays

Nestled at the edge of the town, shrouded in an eerie silence, stands an abandoned house, a relic of bygone days. Its weather-beaten façade bears witness to the passage of time, with cracks snaking up the walls like veins on aged skin. Once a proud abode, it now stands forlorn, forgotten by the bustling world outside.

Approaching the house, one is immediately struck by the sense of desolation that permeates the air. The front yard, once a lush garden, now lies overgrown with weeds, nature reclaiming its territory inch by inch. The windows, devoid of glass, stare blankly into the void, like empty eyes longing for the past. The door, barely clinging to its hinges, creaks mournfully in the wind, a testament to the neglect it has endured.

Stepping inside, one is enveloped by a suffocating stillness, broken only by the occasional sound of a floorboard groaning underfoot. The interior is a maze of shadows and decay, where time seems to have stood still. Furniture lies scattered like forgotten memories, covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. Sunlight filters through cracks in the ceiling, casting eerie patterns on the decaying walls.

Despite its dilapidated state, there is a haunting beauty to the abandoned house, a sense of melancholy that lingers in the air. Each room tells a story of lives once lived, dreams once cherished, now lost to the ravages of time. In the fading light of day, the house takes on a spectral quality, its faded glory a testament to the fleeting nature of existence.

As the sun sets on the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted landscape, one can't help but feel a sense of reverence for the abandoned house. It stands as a silent sentinel, a reminder of the transient nature of human existence, and the inexorable march of time. And though it may be forgotten by the world outside, it will forever hold a place in the collective memory, a silent witness to the passage of time.

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abandoned house - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

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"Come abandoned house," sang the birds with gaity that outshone even the summer blooms, "come and see we have made the perfect place for you!"

That abandoned house was a comeback story in the making. Perhaps there was a time when I passed it, expecting it to tumble, no more. After each round of weathering it remains resolute. The storms swirl around and it stands. And so instead of seeing its cracks as faults, I see its face blowing raspberries to the world. "I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here... Ha ha ha!" And so I bought it. I am it's co-conspirator in survival. Me and it. It and me. Onwards.

Abandoned house I reclaim you as your mother, for spirits can do such things. With me you are reborn, you will live and breath again. What was old will be renewed as humans heal and your outer hue will glow with the warmth of this bonny self confident love. When we are done, trust me, they will come, for all love a well and strong house to call home.

In that house I had abandoned, not for want of love, yet because I was driven to do so, my footsteps echoed once more. And in my absence the house had become more grand, as if it had begun to self-renovate. I spent that day exfoliating the walls, enhancing the beauty of that old place and marvelled at how it had grown so much in such a short time. In the place where it had once been old floor boards was a swimming pool, clear blue waters calm and still. I had returned at last.

The abandoned house held onto happy memories in its floorboards and walls, for there they were safe and brought warmth upon even the most wintry of days.

The abandoned house had learned to sing with the wind and lean into the sunshine, to let the birdsong echo within and appreciate the rhythm of quenching rain.

The abandoned house learned to stand taller, growing toward the sunshine as a tree after a storm might.

The abandoned house, after so much quiet and reflective time, had discovered the company of the trees and wildflowers that brought brightness right up to its doors and windows.

The spirit of the house had rescued itself by sleeping in the walls, by retreating into the welcoming wood away from the dust. It stayed there with the memories of its birth, of the hugs and laughter that once were its colours and music, for that is the way of spirits. So though the floors were bare and the paint was in need of loving care, though the furniture lay still without the warmth of its family, it stood all the same, strong beneath the flakes and dirt of years.

The house had become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within the walls. Somewhere within, mixed with the pain, were images of soft flowers. Yet, if inside felt stagnant, just as a river, it simply needed to flow. And so one day, after time unmeasured, the house opened each door and window. It shivered at first, for the wind felt cold and it was used to the dust and the odour of nothing. It was about to close, to find a way to love the isolation, to become one with the rats who crawled and the sticky spider webs, when in came the fragrance of soft flowers. The house shivered again, but in a different way, this time there was a small fragment of warmth, a tiny brave smile in the walls. There were days that old house did shut every door and window, times darkly shrunken from the world, hoping to be invisible. Yet, as the seasons changed, as Earth circled the sun, the doors and windows opened all the more. They say that the pain blew right out of that house a little at a time and the nature that house craved entered a little at time - the birdsong, blossom and sunshine.

The abandoned house stood in a composed way, as if it had chosen solitude for itself, as if residents were a luxury it could forgo. The floors had been a highly polished parquet, individual blocks lovingly placed and sanded to a smooth finish before the varnish was brushed on with fine bristles. The walls stood firm, the window frames strong, glass triple glazed and whole. All in all, it looked like a movie-set, a place waiting for life to come. The only give-away was the odour, well, that and the dust. It was musty and dry, but nothing opening the doors and windows couldn't solve. A spring clean, some fresh flowers, perhaps the house would enjoy the luxury of company.

The brightly painted door is half off its hinges, it's still shiny knocker dangling with gravity. The path is still perfect brickwork, the mortar holding back the weeds that have overtaken the neighbouring paths with ease. Usually that's a bad sign, if someone's taking care of the place I'm not going in. But the path like everything else about the house reeks of recent renovation. Nobody's been here in a while I'll bet, not for some weeks or more. So this time I'll let the kid pick the house, likely it's as good as any other. For some reason he's squirming so badly I can barely hold him. So once inside I let him down. If there was anyone here they'd have heard him and either come out fighting or else fled already...

Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft , authored by daisy .

The steps are old, unvarnished and slippery with the recent rain. I grab the rail with my free hand and we move up gingerly, and for the most part in silence. I take a stone and cast it through the broke window, if anyone's in there they'll startle. Nothing. Guess it's empty after all. I push on the door expecting it to swing open but it doesn't. Lucky for me Dad had us picking locks before we could pick our own noses. I take out a hair pin and a credit card and the door still doesn't move. Bolted from the inside. Now that is interesting, hence the broken windows I'll bet. Despite the kiddie carrier out front I'm gonna leave this one. Bolts drawn home from the inside don't bode well and I'm hardly in the best condition to fight with Darwin on my hip.

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Abandoned House Essay Example

• Pages: 2 (512 words)
• Published: January 2, 2017
• Type: Essay

Walking up the sidewalk to the damaged red door before me, the sound of soft thunder lingered around me. It was cold, like at the end of the spring after the frost. I slowed my pace just enough to rethink my adventure I was about to proceed, but still carried on. I was about to enter the realm of an abandoned house left many years ago, and discover what secrets might be held inside. Before entering, I took a good observation of the outside. Vines had clung itself to the outer walls of the house, while the top floor window looked as if a baseball had been thrown through it.

The roof was tattered, and a whole was present beside the chimney large enough for the neighborhood birds to nest. Around the house was unk

empt undergrowth as if the house had grown up from the very earth. Although I took into measurement of what I had seen, it was what I hadn’t seen that bothered me the most. The house seemed secluded, therefore no neighborhood children were found playing ball in the streets, and any sign of life for the matter could not be found. I then leaned into the big red door, hearing it screech as it opened.

Inside the foreboding house was dark, and the only light reflecting inside was from the ray of sunshine making its way through the moth eaten curtains. The house felt unnaturally still, and the only sound I could hear were my own breathing, and the creak beneath my feet with each and every step. The walls were stained with black and gray streaks

showing the mold from damp nights had seeped through. The wood floors were in damageable shape, with the assumption that termites had done their job.

As I walked down the wide mpty hallway, flaking speckles of paint lined the floor and the stain from where furniture was once placed was noticeable from the discoloration in the wood flooring. A rank odor lingered with no visible source, and as I gained distance into the depths of the house, I felt the palpable sense of my own fear. There was no furniture in the house besides for one lonely chair off to the corner of what I believed to be the living room. It was an antique dust collector, with an aged floral print that would be familiar with older generations.

As I looked on, my fear began to cease, and I was more sorrowful than afraid any longer. Within the kitchen, there was a window platform that contained an old abundance of pots with soil still contained in them. Dead sticks showed sign of a once mass production of fruits and vegetables. All of the cabinets were empty except for the one above the sink, where numerous canning jars full of expired tomato sauce and such recipes were present. I found this sad because of what I once thought was a terrible frightening place is now looked at as a house that was treated with love, and now all is lost.

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The house looked uninhabited, as she drew near, but one could never tell what lurked inside. The windows were busted and glass was scattered everywhere, while the tattered drapes swayed in the breeze. Plants adorned the porch, ranging from moss to vines to ivy, and almost every wooden board on the porch was broken or cracked. The boards stuck up like little trees growing haphazardly in every direction. Amy climbed the steps cautiously placing every step softly so she did not fall and injure herself. The door was halfway off of it’s hinges and it groaned when she vigilantly pushed it open.…

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In the story, “A Haunted House” by Virginia Woolf, a seemingly haunting, but wonderful story is told about a ghostly couple that is seeking out something they had “lost” in their old home from many years ago that another couple lives in now. The ghostly couple spends the night in this house searching high and low for a specific something that they cannot exactly put their finger on. As they search though the house, they relive some nostalgic moments that they had in the times they lived there and at the end of the story, they find what they were looking for when looking at the new couple sleeping in their bed, which they call “the light in the heart.”…

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Condemnation Slows, but Does Not Stall, Israel’s Assault on Rafah

Despite fierce criticism, Israel insists it must take control of Rafah and the border with Egypt to prevent future arms smuggling.

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By Steven Erlanger ,  Isabel Kershner and Natan Odenheimer

Reporting from Jerusalem

Despite an international court order to stop its assault on Rafah, Israel says it will continue its operation, trying to walk a line between not angering its American allies too much while trying to achieve strategic aims that it considers too important to abandon.

For now, after many weeks of admonitions from the White House, both the Israelis and the Americans are characterizing this as a “limited operation,” allowing the Israelis to proceed, though more slowly and cautiously than they had in other parts of Gaza.

But as the fighting pushes masses of panicked civilians toward areas near the sea with inadequate housing or medical aid, and the closing of the Rafah border crossing dims hope for speedy delivery of humanitarian aid, Israel’s critics abroad condemn the toll on civilians and are unconvinced by what the Israelis have called restraint.

On Friday, the International Court of Justice ordered Israel to immediately halt its offensive in Rafah , saying it endangered the civilian population there, but did not call for a complete cease-fire. Israel says it will not halt its military operation.

For Israel, taking Rafah and the border would effectively complete the reconquest of Gaza and could mean a move to a different phase of lower-intensity raids. Rafah has in and under it the last four relatively organized Hamas battalions, a major tunnel infrastructure and rocket launchers, the Israelis say. More important, Israel wants to try to seal the border with Egypt to reduce the smuggling of weapons for the future.

“The airstrikes are continuous and intense, and the smell of smoke doesn’t leave the air,” said Mohammad al-Masri, 31, an accountant who has been sheltering in a tent in Rafah for months. “At night, they advance a few meters at a time, and the people flee immediately.”

He spoke from western Rafah, where residents and other Gazans who took refuge there have not yet been ordered by the Israeli military to leave. Even so, all around him many of the tents that had been sheltering families for months are gone as people have fled elsewhere. “They shoot and bomb us constantly,” he said, “but what scares us the most are the drones.”

Israel’s military aims remain unaltered, however. It wants to secure the entire border with Egypt, destroy the smuggling tunnels that had fortified Hamas, dismantle the last Hamas battalions, bring its remaining hostages home and break Hamas’s administrative control over the entire Gaza Strip.

After months of delays, as negotiations over a cease-fire and a limited hostage exchange ebbed and flowed, Israel has put five brigades, the military has said — an estimated 10,000 troops — into the operation.

Israeli troops have concentrated initially on securing the border, which is lightly populated, circling around Rafah city and pressing the nearly one million people displaced from other parts of Gaza to move to areas that are supposed to be safer but where conditions remain dire.

Pushing slowly from the east, the Israeli military said on Thursday that troops were fighting in the neighborhoods of Brazil, near the border, and Al-Shaboura refugee camp, their deepest penetration into Rafah. But they insist that they have not yet tried to enter the central city, which in normal times has a population close to one million people.

Analysts say that the anger and warnings from the Biden administration and other close allies of Israel have had an effect in moderating Israeli tactics, even if the assault remains devastating.

In interviews, officers who have just left the fighting in Rafah say that Israel is moving more deliberately and that it is using less airpower and artillery, and fewer, smaller bombs, forcing Israeli soldiers to engage in urban guerrilla warfare with Hamas fighters.

With the Americans insisting that Israel evacuate civilians as much as possible from planned zones of operation, in the past two weeks, as many as one million panicked civilians have moved west toward the sea and safer areas, even if facilities to house, feed and care for them are inadequate.

An Israeli officer in the reserves, who has just returned from southern Gaza and is not authorized to speak to the news media, said that the military was using noticeably less air bombardment, and that troops were advancing slowly west in a pincer movement, with one division working near the border, and the other moving into Rafah’s outskirts.

The Biden administration had refused to support Israel’s move on Rafah unless it saw a credible plan to evacuate and protect civilians. Jake Sullivan, the national security adviser, said after his trip last weekend to Israel that, so far, the Israeli Army was not violating American red lines in Rafah.

“What we have seen so far in terms of Israel’s military operations in that area has been more targeted and limited, has not involved major military operations into the heart of dense urban areas,” Mr. Sullivan said. “We now have to see what unfolds from here. We will watch that, we will consider that, and we will see whether what Israel has briefed us and what they have laid out continues or something else happens.”

Israel insists it has heeded American criticism and is trying to warn civilians to move out of the way of the fighting. But even if the civilians are not in the line of fire, the threats to them remain grave with little or no aid crossing from Egypt.

Israel seized the Rafah crossing in what it said was a limited operation against Hamas, effectively closing it. Israel has said it would like to reopen it, but its move on Rafah was not sufficiently coordinated with Egypt, which has demanded that Israel abandon its attack and pull back from the crossing before it can be reopened.

Tamir Hayman, the executive director of the Institute for National Security Studies and a reserve major general and a former head of military intelligence from 2018 to 2021, said that Israeli negotiators misread their Egyptian counterparts and thought Cairo would not object so strongly to its takeover of the crossing. Cairo has now said it will join South Africa in petitioning the International Court of Justice to find Israel guilty of violating the Genocide Convention .

Some Hamas fighters are believed to be evacuating along with civilians, hoping to fight again in areas that Israel had conquered and then abandoned, as in Jabaliya, where renewed fighting is intense, said Kobi Michael, a senior researcher with the Institute for National Security Studies. The Israeli military’s spokesman, Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari, said this past week that the army had killed 180 fighters in the Rafah area.

But Mr. Michael and Israeli officials agree that the four Hamas battalions still in Rafah are not as well trained as those in the north and are not an urgent problem. Strategically, it is far more important for Israel to seal the border with Egypt, Mr. Hayman said.

Despite Egyptian denials of any tolerance of smuggling into Gaza, Mr. Hayman said, Israeli intelligence believes that most of Hamas’s weapons and components came from Egypt, either through smuggling tunnels or through the crossing itself, often carefully hidden over the years in regular commercial truck traffic.

Israel said publicly in mid-May that in and around Rafah it had already discovered some 700 tunnel shafts leading to 50 larger smuggling tunnels into Egypt. Mr. Michael said that the army had chosen not to blow up the tunnels yet because it would cause damage inside Egypt.

For the same reason, he said, the army is not revealing photographs of the tunnels to try to avoid embarrassing the Egyptian government, which has in the past acted aggressively to find and destroy such tunnels.

Unless smuggling into Gaza from Egypt can be controlled, Israel argues, Hamas or another militant group would be able to resupply over time. But how the crossing can be reopened, and under whose auspices, remains one of those deeply political questions that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel has refused to answer.

Mr. Netanyahu insists that Israel must dismantle Hamas’s military and administrative control over Gaza while refusing to engage with his allies and the Palestinian Authority, the main existing alternative to Hamas, about who will govern Gaza in the future and care for its citizens.

To many, that implies a lengthy Israeli military occupation that senior military officers have said they want to avoid.

Lt. Gen. Herzi Halevi, the Israeli chief of staff, has been quoted as saying he does not want to see Israeli soldiers conducting traffic in Gaza, and Defense Minister Yoav Gallant has called on Mr. Netanyahu “to make a decision and declare that Israel will not establish civilian control over the Gaza Strip.”

But in the broader picture, said Gabi Siboni, a reserve colonel and a fellow of the conservative-leaning Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security, the main problem is that the army is only dealing with dismantling the Hamas military system and not the civilian one. Hamas’s control over the civilian sphere will be its launchpad for rebuilding its military, he said.

In his view, there is no alternative to an interim period of Israeli military rule in Gaza that could last several years.

Mr. Hayman said that while the military effort to take Rafah city at this pace could last another two to three weeks, the process of dismantling Hamas’s structures there could take much longer. “The choice is to withdraw or deepen your control and try to get Hamas underground,” he said. “You could stay there for years.”

But now, Mr. Hayman argues, the Rafah crossing could serve as a model or test case for governing Gaza. Israel, he suggested, could negotiate with Egypt and the United States and regional partners a deal whereby the Palestinian Authority takes at least symbolic sovereignty over Gaza’s side of the crossing. It could then invite the United Arab Emirates, for example, to help create a more efficient, faster border screening for people and for goods with U.S. assistance and technology.

A cooperative international architecture like that, he said, “could be a test case for all of Gaza, to be expanded over time, to answer the question of the day after.” But he stopped, then laughed. “These are just my dreams,” he said. “Nothing happens right now.”

Mr. Netanyahu and his far-right coalition allies have firmly rejected Palestinian Authority involvement in Gaza, he noted, and so far rejected the possibility of a regional solution to the war. “That is a great mistake,” Mr. Hayman said.

Raja Abdulrahim contributed reporting.

Steven Erlanger is the chief diplomatic correspondent in Europe and is based in Berlin. He has reported from over 120 countries, including Thailand, France, Israel, Germany and the former Soviet Union. More about Steven Erlanger

Isabel Kershner , a Times correspondent in Jerusalem, has been reporting on Israeli and Palestinian affairs since 1990. More about Isabel Kershner