Simply a house bathed in sunlight. But it had a history to it. Something beckoned me to find out what happened there. It was so long ago.
Who had occupied it? It was a beautiful house, but things were not as they seemed. Something violent had happened and it started with the yellow curtains and some splattered india ink.
And the ink displayed a story of menace. Something so unbearable, that I just had to put my reporter's nose into the middle of a sinking past.
Note: This picture is really the house that my Dad grew up in. And there is another story where he once spilled India ink on my Grammy's yellow curtains. She got so upset, that she and my dad didn't speak to each other for two whole weeks.
But I guess the story line could go anywhere.