Separated from the bright joyful, middle-class suburban neighbourhood of its surroundings is a small, old, decrepit house located on top of a hill.
The surroundings were an odd couple, mixed between tall, untrimmed grass rife with garden snakes, while the trees were lifeless without a single leaf populating its twigs. The outdoor appearance of the house appeared like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Stacks of old tires were piling up right beside the house, posing as a dengue hazard towards any incoming visitors to the house. Old newspapers piled up on the righr side of the entrance, and unclaimed letters, mostly advertisement or sales promotion letters, were littered around the mailbox installed right beside on the left side of the entrance. It appears the owner takes only the important letters and discard the rest for mother nature to consume.
A slightly rotten wooden rocking chair lay close to the entrance veranda, with the passing southern wind occasionally giving it a ghostly presence of life. The windows around the house were brown and dusty. The curtains inside the house were drawn down and never drawn up. At times, a single life can be seen peering through the curtains only to disappear seconds later.
Inside, the smell of the house is intoxicating, as if someone had just opened the mummy's tomb. It was dusty and the air is too thick to breathe due to floating dust particles; it's difficult imagine if there is such a person who could survive in this condition. Also, the smell emanating from a toilet right around the corner is hardly describable by words. The only part of the house that isn't a dust or stink magnet is the living room. The television is still usable as electricity is present in this house, even if it looks otherwise from the outside. Unlike other things around the house, the television, though a bit old, seems to be cleanest object in the house. The couch, though pretty beaten up with missing foams and protruding springs sticking out, is nonetheless comfortable enough to be sit on. Both the television and three-person couch appears frequently used as there were little or no dust. Surprisingly well-maintained and clean.
The kitchen is not a sight that one's mother should witness. Imagine a restaurant kitchen that doesn't pass through health enforcement regulations, but with fewer people using it and you'll get the picture. Unwashed dishes filled the sink with a couple of flies feasting the leftovers. Since there is still someone living in this house, maggots are yet to find a home here. The kitchen's refrigerator frequently emits a loud, vacuum-like noise, signalling its lack of service. Frozen foods, canned foods; all the instant, quickly prepared meals populate both the refrigerator and the upper kitchen cabinet, respectively.
The bedroom is simple enough: a king-sized bed, a few pillows though most were used to fill out the extra spaces, and of course, a blanket. Like the living room, the bedroom seems frequently used, hence appearing somewhat cleaner than the rest of the house. Again, signs of wear and tear were apparent, but doesn't deter the present amenities from being useless.
At night, it appears almost lifeless, but occasionally, there is light, the sound of footsteps, the sound of basic human expression, the sound of running water, the stereo noise of television, and the smell of canned foods being cooked. A reclusive middle-aged man is said to live in here.
