A descriptive essay about the house i grew up

Most of the houses were made of brick and cement just like my home. At the end or the road that led out of the town in to the deep bush in the mountains was my house. Because the road also led directly in to the town, it was busy with people walking, riding their bikes and burros, and an old car now and then.

As soon as you turned in to my street, your eyes would be immediately swayed towards my house, not because it was beautiful but because of the huge metal door that opened in to what I consider the living room, this was the main entrance.

The door was the color of rust, it had beautiful designs made of twisted metal. It looked like a door that you would find at the entrance of an old cemetery or an old style mansion. The house was built on a high platform because when the rainy season started, the river next to the empty lot overflowed in to the roads and took everything on its path. A cement ramp was built right in front of the door, used to drive a car in to the house and momentarily convert the living room in to a garage. The house was built with brick and cement, it had four bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and, a back yard.

It was painted white and looked as if it was unfinished like many houses looked in town. On the outside of the house, there was a young lemon tree that yellowed with fruit and gave away a sweet aroma. Next to the tree there were some flower pots and wood that we used to fuel a mud and brick stove that we built in the back yard to use when we ran out of gas. Large cracks ran from corner to corner on the uneven walls of the house. Next to the big door was a door that led in to one of the bedrooms, this room was converted in to a small store, we sold canned and dry food and drinks, an unpainted wooden counter reeted the customers. Our small store always smelled as if you were walking in to a bakery because of the freshly made bread delivered every morning by the town’s baker. Across from the store was my bedroom which I shared with all of my sisters and mother. We all slept on a king-size bed even though there were two other queen beds in the bedroom. An old wooden armoire was used as a TV stand, the small TV was only one square foot, it was hard to see but we lived with it because we were not aware that there was any better.

On the wall that connected to the boys bedroom was a huge square shaped hole were a window was missing, this was used by all my siblings as a short cut in to each other’s bedrooms. We often got in trouble for jumping over the window. The fourth room was always kept locked, it was used as a guest room. We never bothered with it because it appeared to be haunted, we often heard chatter and laughter coming from this room, and it was reason enough to keep away. To this day I still wander if what took place there was real.

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