Hazer
02-10-2016, 05:39 PM
I was recently challenged to write a few paragraphs that could evoke the emotion of a very human experience, however the twist was that you had to use buildings instead of people to express the emotion. In some ways I feel I stretched the limits of the challenge, but that is not what I am interested in here. Instead I am curious if the reader, without knowing the original situation described, can yield the very human experience described in a series of allegories. And, if not, maybe just the emotions triggered by the writing. Thanks to all in advance.
************************************** The House ******************************************
From the street the corner house looked like every other house on the block. Oh sure, there were houses with different colors, more windows, or larger yards, but they were still all the same. A front door, some grass, a roof, a garage. Hard to tell one from the other, and it was meant to be that way. In many ways most of the houses were born of the idea that they needed to conform to the look expected by everyone else. And to the casual observer, they were all identical, and in no small part because that is what they wanted to see. But even though it blended into obscurity, it still felt very different somehow.
Approaching the house and slowly moving through the open entry confirmed that this particular house was in fact very peculiar. Inside was a foyer that contained a large circular basin with several streams of water spraying up in harmony to create soothing cascade of dancing water. It was very peaceful, but strangely the entry way contained nothing else besides a series of closed doors. The odd layout included an ornately patterned floor that flowed freely and tied everything together into a beautiful tapestry of color and strength. Two of the doors, which were larger then the rest, almost seemed perched over the remaining doors. The first was big, solid and wooden with no windows. Its exterior revealed a large bronze knocker, and a knob that would not yield, effectively shutting out the entire world. Along side of it was a colorful door that was inviting and warm, in a very comforting way. And if by magic, when this door was open, the large wooden door swung freely. And together, they somehow seemed to be a perfect pair.
Several smaller doors followed. Opening the first revealed a canvas that extended in every direction, a bucket full of brushes, and a staggering selection of paint colors. The choices were limited only by imagination. And yet, curiously, only a small part of the canvas had been painted. But what was there was beautiful and breathtaking. The composition seemed infinite in its content, but much more free space still availed itself. Most of the art was delightfully colorful and full of life. Puppies, trees, open fields. And a warm sun shining down. Inexplicably one small corner tucked off to the side was very different. Much darker, with thick heavy clouds billowing across a dark abandoned prairie. The drama contrasted with the nearly white empty canvas in a way that made the spine shiver. The second door revealed a similar room, but this one had used slightly less canvas, and the colors were even warmer and sunnier. Matter of fact, even the sun was larger on this canvas. And again, one dark corner. The third door revealed a canvas that had more open space than the previous two, and even though the painting was very distinctive, it had a barely identifiable resemblance to the first canvas. And it too had a small, if not troublesome, dark corner.
The final two doors were very comparable from the the outside, but opening them unveiled a small fluttering breeze that was reminiscent of the wind pushed off a small wing. This wisp of air remained present on your shoulder as long as the door stood open. Inside, the rooms contained the same spacious canvas as the others, but the canvases were completely blank minus a very small rendering of a wooden door next to colorful door. Both were covered with drops of moisture, and unlike before, large cracks running across both doors exposed everything they had previously hidden. Painted along side the large doors were three smaller doors revealing their canvases behind them, but the colors were not as bright as before, and the storm clouds released an unrelenting cold pounding rain. Hollow, vacant, silent. The brushes were all put away neatly, and the paint had been dumped out creating a cacophony of bright promising colors spiraling to a black core that seemed endless. The canvas sat unused never to change. A vast empty space that could have contained anything would forever encompass nothing. No colors, no images, no happiness or shame. No sadness or pride. No spite or hate. Nothing. Except for the doors that peeked out, and one small moment of love..
The boards creaked and the other doors hung still in that moment. The darkness would not yield. But alas, the emptiness of it all was just an illusion since the vast space was completely consumed by pain and sorrow. And hearts that ached for so much more.
All the while, the view from the street never changed.
************************************** The House ******************************************
From the street the corner house looked like every other house on the block. Oh sure, there were houses with different colors, more windows, or larger yards, but they were still all the same. A front door, some grass, a roof, a garage. Hard to tell one from the other, and it was meant to be that way. In many ways most of the houses were born of the idea that they needed to conform to the look expected by everyone else. And to the casual observer, they were all identical, and in no small part because that is what they wanted to see. But even though it blended into obscurity, it still felt very different somehow.
Approaching the house and slowly moving through the open entry confirmed that this particular house was in fact very peculiar. Inside was a foyer that contained a large circular basin with several streams of water spraying up in harmony to create soothing cascade of dancing water. It was very peaceful, but strangely the entry way contained nothing else besides a series of closed doors. The odd layout included an ornately patterned floor that flowed freely and tied everything together into a beautiful tapestry of color and strength. Two of the doors, which were larger then the rest, almost seemed perched over the remaining doors. The first was big, solid and wooden with no windows. Its exterior revealed a large bronze knocker, and a knob that would not yield, effectively shutting out the entire world. Along side of it was a colorful door that was inviting and warm, in a very comforting way. And if by magic, when this door was open, the large wooden door swung freely. And together, they somehow seemed to be a perfect pair.
Several smaller doors followed. Opening the first revealed a canvas that extended in every direction, a bucket full of brushes, and a staggering selection of paint colors. The choices were limited only by imagination. And yet, curiously, only a small part of the canvas had been painted. But what was there was beautiful and breathtaking. The composition seemed infinite in its content, but much more free space still availed itself. Most of the art was delightfully colorful and full of life. Puppies, trees, open fields. And a warm sun shining down. Inexplicably one small corner tucked off to the side was very different. Much darker, with thick heavy clouds billowing across a dark abandoned prairie. The drama contrasted with the nearly white empty canvas in a way that made the spine shiver. The second door revealed a similar room, but this one had used slightly less canvas, and the colors were even warmer and sunnier. Matter of fact, even the sun was larger on this canvas. And again, one dark corner. The third door revealed a canvas that had more open space than the previous two, and even though the painting was very distinctive, it had a barely identifiable resemblance to the first canvas. And it too had a small, if not troublesome, dark corner.
The final two doors were very comparable from the the outside, but opening them unveiled a small fluttering breeze that was reminiscent of the wind pushed off a small wing. This wisp of air remained present on your shoulder as long as the door stood open. Inside, the rooms contained the same spacious canvas as the others, but the canvases were completely blank minus a very small rendering of a wooden door next to colorful door. Both were covered with drops of moisture, and unlike before, large cracks running across both doors exposed everything they had previously hidden. Painted along side the large doors were three smaller doors revealing their canvases behind them, but the colors were not as bright as before, and the storm clouds released an unrelenting cold pounding rain. Hollow, vacant, silent. The brushes were all put away neatly, and the paint had been dumped out creating a cacophony of bright promising colors spiraling to a black core that seemed endless. The canvas sat unused never to change. A vast empty space that could have contained anything would forever encompass nothing. No colors, no images, no happiness or shame. No sadness or pride. No spite or hate. Nothing. Except for the doors that peeked out, and one small moment of love..
The boards creaked and the other doors hung still in that moment. The darkness would not yield. But alas, the emptiness of it all was just an illusion since the vast space was completely consumed by pain and sorrow. And hearts that ached for so much more.
All the while, the view from the street never changed.