Ficlets

Where Are We?

“Ty get your hands off my face!” I said playfully.
“Shush! We are almost there.”
“Almost where Ty?” That’s when he stopped.$

He removed his hands and I saw the ugliest house that has ever been bulit. I was an new-trying-to-be old victorian style house. It was pink and purple with yellow drapes in the windows and it had yellow shudders. The windows were huge, almost as if the person inside wanted you to know what was going on in the house. The garden was an assortment of colors and plants; hald of ‘em dead and half of ‘em in full bloom. The path up to the door was made of an asortment stones and rocks and stuff. In the driveways were four dfferent colored punch buggies.

“Where are we?” I asked as I heard screams and shouts from inside the house.

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