There I was, convincing myself that there was nothing to fear, nothing to be scared of, but that house, that murk, that dimness coming out from the lock of the door were making myself even more chicken-hearted. It was not the best vista to describe; it was not even something that I actually enjoy describing, I still feeling the shivering sensation when I talk about that moment when I walked in Miss Emily’s courtyard. The biggest difficulty was trying to hide my emotions, trying to hide that jitters that apparently was moving around my body from my colleagues, which looked secure of themselves, without any fear.
After a walk through the courtyard, there we were, in the entrance, where that ancient and rusty door was waiting for us to knock after years that no one knocked at it. Preparing how to act and what to say I started calming down and getting back the little self-confidence that I have. The negro let us in a dark hall, that from the smell it could be noted that it was a long time ago since the house was cleaned, better said, there was a dusty and close smell. We were in the parlor, waiting for the mysterious Miss Emily to receive us. My eyes were everywhere, looking at the few details that the darkness would let me see, the cracked and rotten leather-cover furniture gave a look mostly ancient and abandoned to the house, everyone else would have thought that it was an abandoned house as the dust was flying around it.
Moving my head around I noticed a man’s portrait, from where I could protrude a lot of conclusions. The portrait was representing a man but not a random man he was a rich man. The clothes were typical elaborated clothes, dressed in a blood-red suit with a really classical tie matching the suit. The male figure was holding a fancy served coconut with a silver support holding it. The background was warm, typical from a big and well-furnished house, illuminated by several candles at the back. This imposing figure was probably Miss Emily’s father, from which I could guess that it was a rich and self-confident slave driver.
When I turned my head again, a big shadow was walking down the wooden stairs that were making an intense sound that was echoing the whole parlor. Suddenly the annoying sound stopped, and yes, she was there, after a slow walk through the stairs she reached the parlor where my two co-workers and me were waiting to have an intense discussion.
Miss Emily was staring at us with a serious and self-confident expression. I would rather prefer to not comment about her awful looking and the smell that came straight after she walked down the stairs. The situation was emotionless (even if I was still scared), my two co-workers seemed dumb and so with a strong and secure tone, I decided to start the discussion that everyone in the parlor was waiting for.
After a walk through the courtyard, there we were, in the entrance, where that ancient and rusty door was waiting for us to knock after years that no one knocked at it. Preparing how to act and what to say I started calming down and getting back the little self-confidence that I have. The negro let us in a dark hall, that from the smell it could be noted that it was a long time ago since the house was cleaned, better said, there was a dusty and close smell. We were in the parlor, waiting for the mysterious Miss Emily to receive us. My eyes were everywhere, looking at the few details that the darkness would let me see, the cracked and rotten leather-cover furniture gave a look mostly ancient and abandoned to the house, everyone else would have thought that it was an abandoned house as the dust was flying around it.
Moving my head around I noticed a man’s portrait, from where I could protrude a lot of conclusions. The portrait was representing a man but not a random man he was a rich man. The clothes were typical elaborated clothes, dressed in a blood-red suit with a really classical tie matching the suit. The male figure was holding a fancy served coconut with a silver support holding it. The background was warm, typical from a big and well-furnished house, illuminated by several candles at the back. This imposing figure was probably Miss Emily’s father, from which I could guess that it was a rich and self-confident slave driver.
When I turned my head again, a big shadow was walking down the wooden stairs that were making an intense sound that was echoing the whole parlor. Suddenly the annoying sound stopped, and yes, she was there, after a slow walk through the stairs she reached the parlor where my two co-workers and me were waiting to have an intense discussion.
Miss Emily was staring at us with a serious and self-confident expression. I would rather prefer to not comment about her awful looking and the smell that came straight after she walked down the stairs. The situation was emotionless (even if I was still scared), my two co-workers seemed dumb and so with a strong and secure tone, I decided to start the discussion that everyone in the parlor was waiting for.