I set down my suitcase on the dusty road and stared at the little cottage.
The small structure was all very symmetrical. The first floor was a small storefront, though there were not any other buildings for miles around. Two tall windows flanked a grated door. White shades hung out over the windows and colorful papers, posters and adverts were taped to the glass. It was painted a bright, baby blue – with a straight reddish roof that stretched backwards to meet in the middle. On top of the cottage, there was a large black satellite antenna – it was new, the tv must get excellent reception.
There was a lamp sticking off the front of the building, all the way to the right and in between the first and second story. There was a narrow balcony that looked over the road protruding right above the entrance way. Two more windows stood on either side, just like their cousins below – their shutters dragged downwards. Graying concrete stretched along each side of the squat walls, and trimmed the windows.
The sky was overcast, and just a hint of the red and green mountainous landscape could be seen behind the cottage draped underneath a blanket of fog. On either side of the tiny manor stretched flat, sandy dirt.
I looked down at my watch and grabbed up my suitcase. I walked across the road towards the old home. It felt emptier now.
See the image that inspired this writing here.
This is good but it gets tedious because I don’t know why I should care. Why was the character intrigued? What’s the story? What’s the stuff that we don’t know about this place? Why is it weird or interesting? Can some of that be hinted at before you get into the description or tie individual details to assumptions or musings about the place?