Blue Violin
The blue house was where it had all begun. At first it had seemed huge to her. The half-mile walk from her own home to the blue house, with its fading paint…
The Blue House
There is a blue house. Tell me about it. Who lives there? When was it made? Who made it? What is inside? Tell me about this blue house. I want to know.
Challengers
15 entriesThe Last House on Fenwick Street
Fenwick Street is a perfectly normal street. Well, almost. All the houses are quaint, with gardens and children playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. Except one…
Donacis Street
“I told you to ask for a street number! Now we’re lost,” Mom grumbled, fumbling for her cellphone. She hated driving; if she could, she would cycle everywhere…
You Enter, You Don't Come Out
“She lives there. In the blue house,” she said, pointing at the bright blue house that rested at the edge of the clearing. The house was small, and had white…
bitter blue
real estate agents and potential buyers would sense a damp fog. they could taste it. like powdery ibuprofen that lingered on the tongue for too long. and no…
The Knocker
A little blue house sits at the end of the lane. It is always freshly painted, and its lawn freshly mowed, though no one can say when these things get done, or…
Different Hues
It’s not really blue. It is aquamarine, turquoise and cyan in stripes with the roof a striking maroon in contrast. Still, people as a group are a little pushed…
The Empty House
Oh, I remember that blue house! Yes, it used to watch over Hasel Valley like a sentinel, standing alone on top of the highest hill. As kids we would race from…
Hidden in the Sky
Sydney laid down the paint brush at last and took a few steps back to gaze lovingly up at his work. “Don’t you think it’s a little...” I hesitated…
1 Cerulean Hill Road
Looking up from the bottom of Cerulean Hill, one might have mistaken it for a nice place. The pale blue paint seemed innocent enough. The clean, white picket…
A Big Blue Stereotype
At the corner of my street sat a stereotype. A large blue house with a yard full of weeds and unmowed grass. It was littered with old, yellowed baseballs, sun…
Blue House
The washing machine spins and spins and spins... Little feet run up and down the stairs. I can smell the blueberry pie baking in the oven. The crust will be…
It had to be Somebody's Home
Near the end of ‘K’ street, just before it crosses the stone bridge, there sits an old blue house. Though it is the last thing I see when I leave town, and the…
Practicality
The house that I was born in was blue, built by the strong hands of my father and uncles, practical men all. In those days, there was little by way of a…
Here is the house
I didn’t know we had an attic. I assumed the second floor led directly to the roof, but you know how it is here in the suburbs, I visited my friend Kaycee and…