Home Decor

Clenching my coat tighter to me as I walked home, I silently cursed under my breath wishing for another jacket--or a car. I'm a high school Senior and I don't have a car. My mother had the car, and she was out of town. My father had the other car, and was at work, then was picking up my two siblings, Sandra and Evan, from school at 4. At least I had the house to myself for a couple hours. I dragged my feet the last block. There was black old snow lining the sidewalks. I hate Ohio. It's depressing. I can't wait to graduate in June. I'm leaving this state.

I walked up the stone steps to my two floor blue house. The only blue house on the 18th street. A strong cold wind blew as I ascended to the front door. I shivered and clenched my coat. With shaky hands I grabbed my house key from my jacket and unlocked the door. With a sigh of relief I stepped into my warm house. I shut the door, and threw my backpack to the left where our old 1960's couch sat. I waited for the familiar FOOM of the pack landing on the couch, but instead heard a crash. I looked over.

Scattered on the bare wooded floor was the reminants of an odd shaped lamp. Freaked, I looked around. The floor, was wooded instead of blue carpeted, the old couch that use to occupy the corner was replaced with a weird square chair. It looked like a cube, but instead of a full cube two faces were missing so one could sit. My heart raced as I walked through the house. I walked toward the dinning room, and our holiday table was no longer pertruding and cramped. A small round table took it's place, with a round dish in the middle holding flowers. Our cabinet that use to sit in the corner that held photo albums, documents, and mother's collection of beanie babies was gone. A small tree sat in the corner. Where was I? 2000? 1975 was the year, this was my house, but everything was futuristic. Everything was...white? The realization struck me as I walked into our old kitchen. White cabinets lined the walls as silver appliances were skattered in the small kitchen. A tall silver cabinet stood overpowering all other appliances in the kitchen. I reached for the handle and opened it slowly. A bright light widened as the door widened. Shelves upon shelves of food laid in this silver monster of a fridge. Mesmerized, I grazed all the clear boxes holding what seemed to be left overs. I reached down and opened the drawer below the wonderland of food. Ice vapor reached up and grazed my arms leaving goosebumps along my arms. Bins that read Ice Cream and boxes that held microwavable meals were stacked in this large freezer drawer.

Shaking out of my daze in the kitchen. I finally closed the fridge. On the fridge  door was a bright blue screen. Touch anywhere for options was printed on the digital screen. No way, this fridge has a TV built into it. I touched the screen lightly with my index finger and a small beep emitted from the fridge. I jumped back. Woah, that's definently NOT from my century. I turned from the screen and walked through the kitchen to what use to be the small back room.

In my old back room sat orange carpet. The only thing not blue in the house. Our family TV rested in the corner with chairs and a sofa around it. A door in the wall led to the small bathroom, and our black heat oven sat in the corner with a pipe running up into the ceiling.

In this back room, tile was laid. Instead of our enclosed room, it was open with large windows all along the wall. It was a sun room. Long chairs, the ones that fancy hotels have at their pools, sat adjacent to each other with magazines in between them. The orange carpet was no more, our TV was no longer, our old heater was no longer providing warmth. Instead a small white vented box sat, plugged into the wall.

I remembered my room. The comfort of my perfect bedroom. How just this past summer I was able to redecorate, and I'd just put the final touches on it with my Beatles poster. I ran from the back room back to the front door where our stairs were. I ran up the wooden stairs to my room. The top hallway was still narrow and close. The three bedrooms sat with open doors. I went to the end of the short hall and noticed my room was no longer yellow, flowery, and rock. My bed was no longer my bed. My day bed was replaced with a wooden white framed bed. My brown dresser, was now white with jewlery and books that I'd never heard nor seen. My lava lamp was no longer in the room. Where was I? My eyes burned. I wanted my home back. Not this..this, weird expensive lifestyle house. I wanted my family. If I'm here, then where are they? With that thought I ran out of the house.

I ran back to my school. Along the way, cars were different. People were wearing clothes I'd never seen. Styles that seemed odd. Combat boots? Who wants to wear soldiers boots? Cars drove silently by. When did that happen? Cars always have been the loudest thing! People walked out of stores lining Kenmore Bulivard with thin black machines to their ears, talking to them. People stared at me as I ran. My platform shoes and bellbottom jeans feeling out of place. I ignored the looks and kept running. After turning on 22nd street, I saw Kenmore High in the distance. A large Cardinal was painted on the baseball dugouts. When did that happen? Our art has always been limited to inside the building. Beside the school's fence, I ran along to the front door. Teenagers stood around waiting for their parents, but soon became occupied as they saw me.

"Nice clothes, where'd you get them the seventies?" This nasaly voice said.  She was dark haired and gave off the presence of snooty. I ignored her comment and ran inside the building. Kids walking down the halls pointed and said comments to their friends and laughed. Everything was the same, but not right. I ran to room 212. Mr. Hensons room. My favorite teacher and a really good family friend. The date December 15th, 2014 was printed in blue marker at the top corner of a white board. Sitting at a desk with a small binder looking object sat an old man. A name plaque read 'Thomas Henson'. I edged forward slowly.

"M..m..mr. Henson?" I asked shyly and scared. The old man, looked up from his contraption and his eyes widened.

"Ashley...?" He spoke with such shock. He rose from his desk, and approached slowly. I nodded and started to cry.

"Where am I, Mr. Henson? What's going on?" I spoke through tears. I couldn't see clearly from the tears blurring my vision. Mr. Henson grabbed my shoulder and hugged me.

"Ashely, you and your family died in '72." He spoke gently, but the words hit me like a ton of bricks. My breathing slowed and grew raspy. A panic attack. Mr. Henson knew immediately what was happening and held me. He told me to breathe, to over power the attack, that I was strong enough to overpower it. It felt as if I had two visions. One blurred, one normal. My eyes fought for both; and soon it tunneled. As it tunneled, I felt myself fall back, and everything went black.

Slowly my eyes fluttered open. Students crowed around me with worried expressions. Mr. Henson stood, young again, with shock spread through his face.