The House with the Yellow
Door
I woke up to the sound of
birds chirping and soft Christmas carols. Rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes,
I walked toward the window and to my amazement, it had started snowing and
everything was covered in thick white snow. Thinking about how lovely it would
be to be the first person to set foot on the untouched fallen snow, I quickly
dressed and headed out.
The chilly breeze was blowing and the rays
of sunlight made the snow glitter. I walked around the garden and made tiny
snowballs with my gloved hand absently as I went.
A sound of plates and cups breaking as
they fell to the floor pierced the peaceful and quiet Christmas morning. I
looked up and sure enough, the noises were coming from the opposite house with
the yellow door. I sighed and wondered what could have happened in this
particular lovely day.
There were quite a lot of strange
happenings in the house of the yellow door. I had never seen the residents of
this very house, nor did my family and the entire neighbourhood for that
matter. Many claimed that they saw them coming out once in a while at night but
there wasn’t any solid proof. Hence, everyone had learned to ignore the house
with the yellow door. Weirdly enough, nobody had ever knocked on the door to
meet the people living inside. To be frank, nobody dared to try.
I turned my back firmly on the house and
decided to have some breakfast. But the next thing that happened changed my
mind.
Someone inside the house was yelping and howling
in pain. And then, in a matter of seconds, a fire broke out and the window
curtain was burning.
Without thinking or even realising what I
was doing, I ran forward to the mysterious house with the yellow door. What I
would do after that, I had no idea, and I didn’t stop to think.
I allowed my instincts to take over. I
literally banged open the door (which
had never been opened before, I assumed) and the scene that awaited me scared
me out of my wits.
An old man was lying on the floor with one
of his legs artificial and his remaining limbs full of bruises and scars.
Debris of the plates and cups that he broke earlier were scattered all over the
floor and the fire was now spreading to the walls.
‘Sir! Sir!’ I shouted. ‘Can you hear me?’
He just laid motionless on the floor.
I looked around the stuffy ancient house
and spotted a fire extinguisher at a corner. I dashed towards it and started
putting out the fire. After a few attempts, I succeeded. Sweating and panting,
I ran toward to the old man.
His eyes snapped open and he said to me in
a hoarse voice,
‘Thank you, lassie,’
‘Are you okay, Sir?’
‘Fine, fine,’ he said. But obviously he
wasn’t fine at all.
‘Do you need to go to the doctor?’ I asked
urgently.
‘No, no! I’ll be fine,’ he said in a firm
and somewhat frustrated voice. To prove that he was indeed fine, he stood up
slowly by using his walking stick.
I looked at him for a moment and then
around the house. A quarter of the house was badly burned, debris scattered
everywhere, chairs overturned and the windows were rusty and dusty. The house
looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in a thousand years and there were
unidentified weird smells coming from the rooms.
‘Well, aren’t you leaving?’ the old man
asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll be going then,’ I replied
uncertainly.
I turned to leave but before I could, he
called out,
‘Thank you. You saved my life,’
‘You’re welcome. Merry Christmas,’ I said
and gave him a little smile.
He didn’t say a word and so I stepped
outside and closed the yellow door, which I had a strong suspicion that it
would never be opened again for a long time. I stood at the doorstep, stunned.
Everything that had happened was slowly coming back to me. I couldn’t believe
what I had just done.
I was in such a dreamy state that I didn’t
recall walking back to my house. I also didn’t realise I picked up a miniature
Christmas tree at the garden. I was certainly surprised at myself when I placed
the tree at the doorstep of the house with the infamous yellow door.
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