Good morning everyone. This morning feels like the calm before the storm. I know that we are expecting rains later so I know the cause but I stepped outside this morning and it just feels like the air is heavily waiting. It gives the day a slightly ominous feel. I’m sure once the rain actually arrives it will be fine, but today feels like the day to take up writing gothic horror. Let’s see what comes out of the writing prompt then. Shall we?
well not exactly gothic horror but I suppose with a few turns it could lean that way.
Thursday, February 9th: The grass was freshly mown.
The grass was freshly mown. She could see the lines of the mower in perfect lines across it. They went in a diagonal pattern which she supposed was considered more flattering to the house. To her it looked more like vacuum marks on a new carpet. As she walked up the drive, Kayla decided that the reason they looked so much like vacuum marks was that the grass was so thick and tightly grown that it looked more like carpet than actual grass.
It seemed strange that they would take so much time with the front yard when it was clear no one used it. She straightened her shirt as she approached the entrance. She was told by the employment agency that no one used the front door anymore and that she was supposed to go to the clearly marked side entrance.
She thought it strange when she received the instructions, but now, seeing the entrance she understood. The entrance was built with the house and featured two cured staircases leading up to the main door. If one looked below there were stairs going down to what she assumed was the original staff entrance to the building. Either way, the stairs were quite a daunting task to give to the current residents.
This hose stopped being a personal residence long ago and now catered to the elderly wealthy, specifically those whose illnesses no longer allowed them to live at home. She was told that as space was limited and every effort had been made to preserve the opulence of the former estate, only the wealthiest of elders were sent here by their families to be quietly forgotten.
When visitor’s policies were explained to her the rules seemed vague so she asked for clarification. She was told that their visitors usually entailed assistants, secretaries or general delivery personnel dropping things off for the visitors rather than actual visitations from family. The postman was apparently viewed with the same excitement as a celebrity.
Once the people house in this building were powerful as well as wealthy. A few of them had the power to change nations. It was one of the reasons her security clearance was a bit more extreme than any she faced in an care home she took employment in. Kayla moved to the side entrance where a discrete sign nailed to the front of the door read, entrance.
There were cameras in nearly every corner sue looked so Kayla had no doubt her arrival would be noted. She took the security card she was given and held it up to the electronic reader. The light flashed from red to green and the door locks clicked. She opened the door and stepped inside.
The scent was familiar, and while not overly pleasing, it was comfortable in its familiarity. Wealthy and powerful or poor and powerless, the scent of the space was the same. Kayla smiled at the waiting security guard.
Ten til Midnight 