As promised, my goal is to sharpen my location writing skills, since I believe the location itself could have a great impact on the story, no matter its length. The image I'll describe can be found here. It is the street in my hometown. Shall I begin? All right...sit back and relax...
When Mike O'Doone first stepped into this house it was nothing more than a cottage in a pretty bad shape. Concrete was falling off of the walls. He huffed and put the large iron key into the lock. It wouldn't budge. He tried several times and then, in rage, pushed the door with his shoulder. It loudly cracked open. Carefully he stepped inside, not knowing what he could expect; a wild animal running out after months and years of living inside, perhaps? Or the evidence that someone lived here before, maybe. But none of that happened. He stepped into the middle of the house. He looked to his left and right but nothing could be seen. It was too dark.
He approached the wooden window and tried to open it but, again, it was stuck. It was obvious that no on lived in this place since the old owner died fifty years ago. With another nudge Mike managed to open the window and the weak afternoon light found its way into the room. Now it was very clear that there were no walls. Mike felt like he moved into a big ballroom. But what happened? Were the walls torn down? Or is it possible that they weren't even in construction plans? What an odd thing, Mike thought. Then he saw a small staircase leading onto the second floor. He carefully made his way up the stairs, cringing every time he heard a crack. He turned to the right. The door stood in front of him and he pushed them gently. They opened easily.
It was a small room with a big balcony and a window with a view of the house on the other side of the street. The local pub. The balcony was in an excellent shape, although the color pretty much faded away. He went back to the hallway and opened the door on the left. He saw a small cabin and a simple basin next to it. He looked for the switch but couldn't find any. Obviously the previous owner didn't feel the need to install electricity.
He closed the door and looked at the ceiling. He saw a set of small windows at the top of the roof, but there were no doors or staircases leading to them. He scratched his head and headed downstairs, deciding that he will have to make inquiries at the local library. There was something very unusual about this place. And he will take the time to bring it back to his original function: as a pleasant place to live.
But right now there was only one burning question he needed to look at immediately. He took the key and locked the front door, even at the risk of not being able to open it up again, and marched straight to the pub. It was time to gather information. What place could be better than the local pub with a mouthy owner.
Part two comes soon. In the meantime I look forward to some feedback from you. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.