Emma
I struggled with the key I had been given for the padlock on the gate. The lock itself was rusted, and it wasn’t certain when it had last been opened. Most likely four years ago, when my great Gran had died. I had never been close to her, had never really known her. But I had been close to my Gran, and when she passed away five months ago, ahead of her time, it had been me this house had been passed down to. My Mum had never liked it anyway.
I pulled away the chain wrapped around the iron gates, and pushed them open, something that required more force that I originally thought necessary. They gave way, creaking and complaining, the hinges creaking like joints that have gone stiff. Zig, my pretty, but crazy, spaniel barked from my car, desperate for me to return, or let him out to join me. Certain the gates weren’t about to swing closed on me again, I climbed back into my little blue car, petting Zig to let him know I never would have left him in the car, and pulled it forwards. The car had been alright in the city, but it wasn’t ideal for moving. I had a few boxes on my backset, and two in the boot, but I couldn’t fit anything else in. Hiring a moving van seemed the only way to go, and my stuff should be arriving a little later than me.
I pulled the car to a stop and got out again, running to close the gates, and quickly returning to let Zig out. His first stop was to lift his leg to an old and cracked plant pot, which I hoped had never been a prized possession of my great Gran. Zig proceeded lower his nose to the ground, and start walking back and forth, following the scents he could find. I looked around at the path leading to the front door, lined with messy, unkempt rose bushes. The house itself looked to be in decent shape, but you couldn’t tell much from the outside. The yard, what I could see of it, was a mess. The shed was all of three standing walls and a pile of collapsed stone, and the piece of grassed land was overgrown.
“Zig,” I called him and he raised his head to look at me, his tongue hanging out as he bounded over to me, jumping up and resting his front paws on my front, trying to reach my face to lick. Luckily, I was tall enough that he could only just reach my elbows. “Come on, get off. Let’s go and look at our new home, yeah?” He barked at me in response, although he didn’t get off until I pushed his paws off me.
The front door unlocked much easier than the gate, but when I pushed it open, it hit something on the inside and stopped. Zig, of course, squeezed through the gap and ran inside. I could hear the click of his claws against wooden flooring, and then a crash that sounded remarkably like boxes falling over. I groaned. Please don’t let there be more boxes. I had already had enough of them just from packing up my flat. This house was big enough to house at least five people, unless they shared rooms, and then more. If I got the door open enough to find boxes to fill the house, I might just sit down and cry.
“Zig?” I called into the house, faintly hearing the patter of his footsteps, but they didn’t seem to be coming in my direction. Of course. Why would he be helpful? I knelt down by the door, and reached my arm through the open gap. My hand hit a box, and I pushed it out of the way as best I could. It seemed to have wedged itself in the corner behind the door. I pushed myself back to my feet, wondering why I decided to wear a dress, and not jeans, and opened the door.
This time, it opened enough to let me in, and I stepped through into a building I had never even seen before, but that now belonged to me. It’s strange how these things can happen. Especially considering what the house looked like. If it looked alright from the outside, the inside was a nightmare. Boxes were piled up everywhere, effectively creating a barrier into the house. I called Zig again, and he came running this time, leaping the box wall and circling my feet before sitting, looking up at me, and waiting for me to tell him what we were doing.
“We’d better get this moved. Are you going to help?” I looked down at him and raised my eyebrows. His tail thumped against the floor, and he barked, before running and jumping the boxes again, disappearing around the corner into a room. “Thanks, Zig! I appreciate it!” I yelled sarcastically after him. I reached for the first box, and moved it to the side, slowly moving the wall to both sides, to lean against the walls, and making myself a path through. Was there a backdoor that whoever was last here had left through? And the boxes were a thief deterrent? It was an effective one. If you couldn’t get into the house, you surely couldn’t steal anything from it.
I followed the sounds of Zip’s footsteps, finding him with his nose in a box. He looked up at me, backed away from the box, and barked, his tail wagging so hard it looked about to fall off. Frowning, I crouched by the box and pulled it open. A pile of coats, packed neatly away, and a dog lead on top. Did the smell of the dog still cling to the lead? Is that what he was after?
“Not right now, Zig. We need to get some windows open. Come on.” He ran out of the room ahead of me, and I shook my head at him. The house was stuffy, which was unsurprising considering how long it had been since anyone had been here, but it was also dusty, and I could feel the particles in the back of my throat, trying to find their way to my lungs.
I found the kitchen first, a large room, with an old wooden table pushed to the corner, six chairs, either tucked under it, or stood on top. It looked like it was moved there to keep it out of the way. I reached across the sink for the latch to the window, which complained like the gate when I tried to open it, but it gave way, and a rush of cool air pushed inside. Curiously, I tried the tap, and was overjoyed to find that, not only did water come out, it looked clean. Hopefully, this house was simply full of boxes and dust, and didn’t need any major work. I had already taken enough of a risk, packing up my flat and moving out here, away from everything I knew – the city, my job, my best friend. But a broken heart will do that to you.
Zig’s barking drew my attention, and I followed the sound, calling to him. He was at the front door, barking at the door, and I ran to another room to look out a window, opening it while I was there. The moving lorry was at the gate, and I watched as one of the men jumped out the lorry and opened it.
“Can you close that when you come through?” I yelled through the window, startling the man, until he noticed me and nodded, waiting by the gate for the lorry to drive through. Only when I had seen him secure the gate closed did I open the door, Zip running out ahead of me and making a beeline for the man who had opened and closed the gate, the same man who had given Zip plenty of attention earlier, when we had been putting the boxes in the lorry. Zip jumped up at him, and the man rubbed his ears, before pushing him off and walking over to the lorry, Zip running in circles around him before catching a scent and running off to the rose bushes.
More boxes, more furniture. I let out a big sigh. Time to get started, I suppose.
And done!
I’ve been wanting to write a story about a girl moving into a big, run down house for a while, and I figured if I wrote it as a short story, I wouldn’t technically be working on more than one writing project at once, and I might finally get one finished. I would love to come back to this story, though, and make it a full novel.
That’s all for now…
Bye!
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