“Bustling streets” was and always has been associated with places like New York. Look no further to find every walk of life from toddlers to folk reaching retirement littering the streets from dusk to dawn trying to get somewhere with an odd sense of urgency. Of course, tourists are an exception at times. The city is the home of beautiful people with dreams of grandeur and well, those who lost it in battle. The place where dreams flourish, or go to die- what a story. People who lose hope though, will eventually develop a nasty addiction. Whether it’s with illegal happy drugs or delectable sweets from world famous pastries, it’s not a pretty sight. Of course their story doesn't reach the light of day. No sad mother crying for their addicted daughter sparks an interest on the internet. No, it’s the cancer patients and other disaster survivors that are fighting the “good fight” that sells. Now, today’s interest or focus is a guy that arguably fits neither category. And so in all honesty, I have no idea if it'll even sell. He’s not some immigrant with dreams so vast the end can’t be seen and well as far as I can tell, he doesn't reek of drugs and is no regular of anything resembling a bakery. I write this story mainly for myself. It’s good practice. If I’m to aim for the spotlight as a reporter, practice is certainly necessary. Perhaps (if it becomes a sellable story) I could serve as a submission to my publisher to reach better sights as a reporter but who knows if I’ll actually turn it in. Perhaps you can give it a look.

  

  Amidst the chaotic streets of the city of freedom: New York, there is an eery house on a block of otherwise normal structures. At first glance, a sense of placelessness captivates you as even the color of the bricks are similar. Roof after roof, the shingles are red! The one unique feature is the door. All -but one- of the houses seem to have differing bright colored doors.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I especially love the house next door with the deep forest green color. The door of interest is sadly faded though. The door only whispers a hit of a color I can’t quite place. This has piqued my interest. I must know. What vibrant shade could have occupied the door? I can only ask.

  Stay curious,

  Signed Sarah Goodwin

  Lolita has requested a search for her lost tabby cat. Call animal services if you find her cat!

  My burning curiosity and shyness battled it out until one day I eventually placed three hard knocks on the faded door. Anticlimactically, there was no answer. But as my teacher always said, “Persistence is an admirable character trait in a reporter”. So now I begin my journey with anticipation to learn about the color of a door with no claims of real significance. I understand that but my, wouldn’t you like to know as well? Don’t answer that. However, there really could be a story here.