entering a house - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Entering a house in this neighbourhood after dark was a job for the spook-brigade, or rookies as they used to be known. We call them spooks in honour of what they may become before being promoted to a safer position.Kevlar jackets are all well and good but the neck and head are fresh meat to any attacker.
Tonight, with the Eastside on fire, everyone's on edge. The spook hovers at the threshold, the door already ajar. He makes an obsolete knock, no-one but the already deceased could fail to notice a squadron of police troopers outside their house. Our cruiser lights are the brightest thing for miles, even the street-lamps cast sallow pools of yellow so weak as to be pointless. Spooks heal disappears into the blackness, at first his flashlight is the only illumination in there but soon with the lights flicked on the inside of the house is laid bare and the story of the night begins to unfold.
When at last Tina arrived, the house was a grey blur behind the rain-washed window of the truck. It was large, certainly, almost intimidatingly so. On climbing out it took a more detailed form, natural grey stone with all the hues mother nature can provide. The paintwork on the trim was brilliant white, flawless and the path wound to a double oak front door was loose pea shingle. The windows weren't the large ones that are so fashionable now, but more the size she used to see in old country cottages, and like them they were mullioned. But that's where all the old world charm ended, once across the threshold it was technology and modern design all the way. The floors were polished concrete and the furniture scandinavian, high end designers only. The only compromise to comfort was the sheepskin on the floor, so clean it was hard to believe anyone had ever stepped foot on it. The only mess was the wet footprints Tina had tracked in on the shoes she forgot to remove.
A door left ajar cast an white beam into the sultry night. It was odd for a door to be left open in this part of town, as a rule they were shut, locked and double bolted. The patrolman approached the door and called out. There was no answer. He pushed the door and it swung open with ease, a blast of air conditioned cold streamed past him and some light jazz drifted from a room out of sight. There were a few children's toys cast onto the floor in a haphazard fashion but otherwise nothing of concern. He was about to close the door and leave when he spied a cell phone on the floor with spatters of red around it. One hand reached for his weapon and the other for his radio.
I rolled my eyes. "Nope. No. No way. You said no breaking and entering."
"This isn't breaking and entering. It's just entering, because there's an unlocked door."
"I will acknowledge that over the course of this evening, there has been both breaking and entering. There was entering at Becca's house. There was breaking at Jase's house. And there will be entering here. But there has never been simultaneous breaking and entering. Theoretically, the cops could charge us with breaking, and they could charge us with entering, but they could not charge us with breaking and entering. So I've kept my promise."
There was the noise of a key in the lock and then the door swung open, not slowly like River did when he returned, but fast and with enough force to drive the door into the plaster opposite. Rose stood, her breathing suspended, reaching for the crow-bar in the closet.
Entering a house was a more high tech endeavour than it was only a few years before. The biometric scanners had been taken out after a spate of grisly new ways to gain entry to even the most salubrious homes on the island. The new encoded chips for entry were put in the bone marrow of the owner and any removal rendered them worse than dysfunctional. Instead of opening the door they summoned the mercenaries of the owner's choice.
Like all security "improvements" they were marketed as they way to beat the crooks, and like all technology that can be abused it was. The only way in was to have the live owner with you, but an elevated core temperature induced by fear would trigger an alarm, as would evidence of doping in their blood. Hank listened to the experts assembled. This was foreign soil and getting Charlie back meant seven shades of illegality before breakfast the next day. He favoured the old school approach, Semtex, but the secret service guys wouldn't hear of it. Entering the house would be done with new science, getting Charlie killed by falling masonry was not on the agenda.
Rainer crossed over the threshold, the rose tinctured garden air giving way to the stronger smell of lemon scented bleach. Melody was cleaning like she meant to scrub the world away, not once looking up to see who had entered her house.
From the sun baked dryness of outside, the air conditioning of Gloria's house was a blessing to the skin. Leon removed his shades, taking in the Mediterranean vibe she had conjured, enjoying the many pot plants that reached upward with broad and spreading leaves. Catching her smile he was taken aback, rather than the soulless pleasantness she shared at the office, there was a natural softness and warmth. He quickly cast his eyes down to the shoes he was removing, not to be rude, but staring into her eyes felt like some sort of professional mis-courtesy.