It's useless. This black house is too stand-outish this spring. Compared to the blue, purple, and white houses, this black house is like a dark hole. Anyone who enters this house is sucked in by the despair of the house's intentions. Believe me, I know from personal experience. Arriving at this house in the fall two years ago, I began to feel a way that I haven't felt before. Mom agrees, too. Everything feels backwards- in a parallel universe. Okay, well, not that extreme. But still, everything IS pretty much backwards. It all feels tremendously odd. I absolutely hate it. The leaves no longer turn a genuine brown color in the fall- they turn black. In the spring, the leaves don't return to the trees in a rich green shade- in fact, they barley return at all. The lucky ones that happen to make an appearance back to the tree end up transforming into the sinister black color and will surely fall off if even touched. The exterior of the house is like a glass of old milk. The whole thing gets worse and worse the longer that you look at it. The house is almost identical to the trees; fading away slowly, but surely. The house is tiny and is a shade that is probably darker than black- if there is such thing. Opening the door and entering this old glass of milk is absolutely disguising. About four different extravagant scents will fill your nostrils; rubber, overcooked green beans, crayons, and my personal favorite- old lady. As you close the door, the creaking of the hinges distracts you from the fact that you are closing yourself away from the rest of the world with this simple movement. I recommend plugging your nose as you walk but the kitchen. For the scents get even worse, my friend. I'm not sure how, either. A dirty living room will most likely display in front of you at this point. Board games are almost always scattered on the stained carpet, alongside a series of food crumbs. Choose wisely! Moving on to the basement, this is normally what some say is the worst part of an old house. I would approve that message. The wooden stairs are painted a faint blue and lead downstairs in one of those o-shapes. You would normally find a staircase like this in a mansion, but for some reason, the architect was a complete doof and decided that is would be cool to put this in the basement. The basement was slightly farther down than the other two floors for some odd reason, so a longer stairwell was necessary. I wish it wasn't necessary, though. I mean, it's to extensive and lingering, it makes almost everyone uncomfortable. In spring, it smells of ash and blood- the two scents that I find absolutely unbearable. It's unfinished and tacky down there, which is why it is unused. So there it is. That's all of it. Our home. All of it occurs damp and hollow each spring. And all it will reoccur next spring.