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The Journalists Visit.
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Nov 20 2003
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The Journalists Visit I pulled up in front of her neat but dirty end-of-terrace house. I stayed fascinated in the house for a while then I stepped out of my car onto the battered pavement. I walked up the windy path leading to her beautiful red front door that smelt like she had very recently painted it. I knocked on the door, using the large brown door knocker. Sharply Mrs. Evans answered the door. She did not say a thing. She was content just to look and stare. "Mrs. Evans?" I asked. "Mrs. Rhiannon Evans?" "Yes" she exclaimed "I am a reporter from the blare", I replied "You should come in", she quickly replied. I stepped into the old musty house, the house stunk of mould. And there was flowery wallpaper drooping from the walls, it was an ugly brown colour, it looked like it had been there 5 years. I followed her into the living...
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