Even the facades on the adjoining terraced houses differed as sharply as political factions. Sarah was intrigued, and wondered if the neighbours were at odds.
Her imagination ran away with her, dragging her headlong into wild speculation about a potential chalk-and-cheese relationship between a staid civil servant and a quirky marketing executive. Surely the brighter door, with its bright red brickwork, closed upon the home of one successfully steeped in the arts, making good money.
Meanwhile, the black door's contrast with its white arched surround set into time-bleached bricks spoke to her of a steady income, drab predictability, and a dull but useful life. Did they know each other? Did they speak to each other? Or did they briefly pass each other by, barely paying attention to each other? Of course, these days, she couldn't make assumptions. The golden-hued door might close on a rainbow family; two mums. Two dads. A thruple? A child adopted from an impoverished nation? The possibilities were endless. Sarah really wanted to go inside to see if she was right.
“Let’s consider tearing down the drywall and insulating with sound proof insulation,” Jerry observed.
“Good idea,” replied Jenny. “Some noises we don’t need to hear.”
50 words
At exactly 8:10 am both doors opened synchronistically. Two men stepped out dressed identically. They turned at the same time and locked their doors. Tipping their hats to the gathered crowd, they entered identical cars and drove off in the same direction. A collective heartfelt sigh was delightfully heard.
100 words
“The same but slightly different,” observed the man.
“Mailbox, door handles, door knockers, transom, light or no light. Even the windows, shutters, window boxes and flowers reflect this,” added the woman.
They looked at each other with a tenseness that underlied their issue as they walked two doors over.
Peering at the next set of doors they made calculations and tried to picture in their minds how the house should look.
“I think I see our path forward. Bold reflecting confidence. Eclectic but integrated. Warm and inviting yet different and quite distinct.”
“Now, we need to get our neighbour onboard.”
150 words
“The gas lamps make this neightbourhood!”
“I’m glad we fought for them,” replied Agnes. She looked at Stan who was staring down the street. She followed his gaze until it landed on number 1772 where a crowd of reporters and young girls were gathered. “Is he there?” Agnes inquired.
“Not sure,” he replied. “They’ve been there for a while now.”
“They were there when we were trying to save the gas lamps. Did we get press coverage? No!”
“That’s all in the past now. It is annoying trying to drive down the road beeping them out of the way.”
There was some stirring as the door to 1772 opened. It quieted down again as a woman walked out and hung a for sale sign on the fence. The crowd slowly dissipated and dispersed.
Agnes turned to Kent. “Tea at 3?”
He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied with a wink.
Behind Closed Doors
[ StoryStack] Addition Method
Fraternal mismatched Georgian twin doors kissed.
Even the facades on the adjoining terraced houses differed as sharply as political factions. Sarah was intrigued, and wondered if the neighbours were at odds.
Her imagination ran away with her, dragging her headlong into wild speculation about a potential chalk-and-cheese relationship between a staid civil servant and a quirky marketing executive. Surely the brighter door, with its bright red brickwork, closed upon the home of one successfully steeped in the arts, making good money.
Meanwhile, the black door's contrast with its white arched surround set into time-bleached bricks spoke to her of a steady income, drab predictability, and a dull but useful life. Did they know each other? Did they speak to each other? Or did they briefly pass each other by, barely paying attention to each other? Of course, these days, she couldn't make assumptions. The golden-hued door might close on a rainbow family; two mums. Two dads. A thruple? A child adopted from an impoverished nation? The possibilities were endless. Sarah really wanted to go inside to see if she was right.
Tea At Three?
A Story Stack: The Separation Method
6 words
Challenge accepted! Richness demands much better.
25 words
“Let’s consider tearing down the drywall and insulating with sound proof insulation,” Jerry observed.
“Good idea,” replied Jenny. “Some noises we don’t need to hear.”
50 words
At exactly 8:10 am both doors opened synchronistically. Two men stepped out dressed identically. They turned at the same time and locked their doors. Tipping their hats to the gathered crowd, they entered identical cars and drove off in the same direction. A collective heartfelt sigh was delightfully heard.
100 words
“The same but slightly different,” observed the man.
“Mailbox, door handles, door knockers, transom, light or no light. Even the windows, shutters, window boxes and flowers reflect this,” added the woman.
They looked at each other with a tenseness that underlied their issue as they walked two doors over.
Peering at the next set of doors they made calculations and tried to picture in their minds how the house should look.
“I think I see our path forward. Bold reflecting confidence. Eclectic but integrated. Warm and inviting yet different and quite distinct.”
“Now, we need to get our neighbour onboard.”
150 words
“The gas lamps make this neightbourhood!”
“I’m glad we fought for them,” replied Agnes. She looked at Stan who was staring down the street. She followed his gaze until it landed on number 1772 where a crowd of reporters and young girls were gathered. “Is he there?” Agnes inquired.
“Not sure,” he replied. “They’ve been there for a while now.”
“They were there when we were trying to save the gas lamps. Did we get press coverage? No!”
“That’s all in the past now. It is annoying trying to drive down the road beeping them out of the way.”
There was some stirring as the door to 1772 opened. It quieted down again as a woman walked out and hung a for sale sign on the fence. The crowd slowly dissipated and dispersed.
Agnes turned to Kent. “Tea at 3?”
He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied with a wink.