At a particular corner of the square – plan – view of Townley Garden is an old – looking double storey house. The garden was large enough to park a car and a motorcycle. A short drive at the left end, a stretch of a row of trees – kinda pine, serving as the garden’s wall, and a stony path at the other end made up a simple garden of Farouki’s.
The white front door, facing the drive leads a living room of an old sofa set two small tables, a small fireplace and a thick old carpet wrapping each inch of the cold floor. Not to forget, there was also a white shoe rack aside the front door.
Straight ahead of the living room is the heart of the house – the kitchen, which I could say small, but wide in length. The arc was remarkable since I used to play simple computer games at the small corner there.
The bedroom I used to sleep with Maryam and Ilyas was just right beside the small hall stretched from the left side of the fireplace. There was actually no bed, so we spread out our own mattress and sleep together in the everyday – freeze – to – almost – death cold night . I could never forget a stupid habit of curling half – naked in my dark green mattress – I could not imagine why did I felt good for doing so. Well, a kid is just a kid. From the wooden door of my bedroom, I could see the master bedroom straight away at the other end.
The backdoor was the least visited place, since the backyard seems to daunt me as if it was a thousand - years - abandoned graveyard. The square backyard was too dark and ugly – there were too much wild bushes, along with big massive trees of gargantuan shadows. Even the wooden fence at the end was almost invisible for it was covered up by incalculable wild tendrils. Nevertheless, I’d stepped at the spooky backyard for twice or thrice, as I was too keen to know how it feels to be in the middle of the patch.
Our neighbor upstairs seems a true stranger to me. I can’t remember whether they – yes, they are a couple – are black, white or Pakistani. I accidentally saw them for just a couple of times and never ever saw them again. Yet, I was too curious to know how they could live upstairs since my little eyes had never seen any signs of staircases. And because of this curiosity, I spent my life at Farouki’s house searching for the hidden staircase. Sounds like a detective story, huh? =)
The white front door, facing the drive leads a living room of an old sofa set two small tables, a small fireplace and a thick old carpet wrapping each inch of the cold floor. Not to forget, there was also a white shoe rack aside the front door.
Straight ahead of the living room is the heart of the house – the kitchen, which I could say small, but wide in length. The arc was remarkable since I used to play simple computer games at the small corner there.
The bedroom I used to sleep with Maryam and Ilyas was just right beside the small hall stretched from the left side of the fireplace. There was actually no bed, so we spread out our own mattress and sleep together in the everyday – freeze – to – almost – death cold night . I could never forget a stupid habit of curling half – naked in my dark green mattress – I could not imagine why did I felt good for doing so. Well, a kid is just a kid. From the wooden door of my bedroom, I could see the master bedroom straight away at the other end.
The backdoor was the least visited place, since the backyard seems to daunt me as if it was a thousand - years - abandoned graveyard. The square backyard was too dark and ugly – there were too much wild bushes, along with big massive trees of gargantuan shadows. Even the wooden fence at the end was almost invisible for it was covered up by incalculable wild tendrils. Nevertheless, I’d stepped at the spooky backyard for twice or thrice, as I was too keen to know how it feels to be in the middle of the patch.
Our neighbor upstairs seems a true stranger to me. I can’t remember whether they – yes, they are a couple – are black, white or Pakistani. I accidentally saw them for just a couple of times and never ever saw them again. Yet, I was too curious to know how they could live upstairs since my little eyes had never seen any signs of staircases. And because of this curiosity, I spent my life at Farouki’s house searching for the hidden staircase. Sounds like a detective story, huh? =)
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