The Chestnut Cottage

In a large area of a certain country, on the outskirts of the ordinary village of Chestnut sat a small cottage; walls speckled with dashed pebbles of varying size and shape. The arrangement of colours glimmered in the sunlight, like a genius architect specifically placed each tiny stone into position.
    The almost perfectly square, hedge-fenced house; with its gorgeous tiled roof and small windows fitted with wooden panes painted blue sat basking in the warm Summer light; to the right was a large wheat field which, if traversed straight across, led to the main housing area of the village while sitting to the left of the house was a large, dark forest which had ‘adventure’ written all over it; twisting turns, dark corridors lined with the bark of tightly knit trees and of course, the occasional woodland creature.
    The front door was by far the most distinctive feature of the comfy cottage. It was large, scaling a fair fraction of the house, and built from a sturdy wood which could withstand anything you could throw at it. The door had been painted a very specific shade of blue within minutes of the owners moving in. The two of them, a couple, waddled into the house with their possessions and then proceeded to waddle back out carrying two paint brushes and a bucket of blue paint.
    The afternoon ended with a beautiful new door and two very blue homeowners. As their new colours dried they lifted a small sign to the door which read the name of the house, and carefully nailed it in. The text carved into the wood read; “The Chestnut Cottage”.
    Around the twinkling brick walls and behind the house laid a large garden, luscious green grass spanned the entire plain. Stood proudly in the center of the garden was a large, skinny lemon tree graciously juggling the plump yellow fruit which was just about ready to be picked. On the ground amongst three of four fallen lemons sat two gorgeously lazy cats, much like their owners. Lawliet (an entirely pitch-black furred cat) and Jakily (a plain snow white kitten with a small patch of light brown making itself home on his back) laid cuddled up together in the fairly unimpressive patches of shade the tree cast.
    They had been bought by the young couple the day after moving in and since then had spent hours everyday just laying sleepily in the warm breeze, moving only to fill their stomachs or to wriggle in or out of the sunlight.
    If you were to enter the house (hopefully with the owner’s permission) you would first be greeted by a small hallway with two doorless openings where a warm but comfortable draught of air would wrap around your entire body. The hallway itself was overly decorated with a large amount of dream catchers; each a different size with a different image or pattern.
    They hung from the ceiling just above eye level where the feathers on a few would tickle even the most experienced noses, a few broken dream catchers had been nailed to the painted white walls in a simple fix solution. As you continued your tour, walking through the first doorway on the left which led to the kitchen, your nostrils would be attacked by the hunger inducing scent of recently buttered toast, a smell that rarely left the homey little kitchen.
    The kitchen was fairly small and cute but it had the basics; a large fridge house two large bowls of homemade curry and chilli left over from the night before, a couple of cupboards, a cute little stove and, above the stove on a hand built spice-rack, a large dusty cookbook surrounded by four or five cacti positioned to look like small guardians of the outdated, unused, leather-bound tome.
    The walls were half tiled from the cupboard tops up as if the young man had began the job but swiftly given up in favour of an afternoon nap. Instead tiny droplets of non-removable kitchen splatter coated the walls as a memento to the three or four times he attempted to cook for his wife.
    Returning to the hallway, turning right and walking through the next doorway placed directly opposite of the front door would leave you in the living room of the cottage. It was a large room with another two doorways, this time both fitted with doors leading to the master bedroom and the spare bedroom. The most notable change was the dark wooden floor from both the hallway and kitchen had morphed into a thick but comforting, pale carpet which almost absorbed your feet as you stepped into it.
    The room was occupied mostly by cuddling space; a large armchair and a similarly large sofa which would swallow up anybody who sat in it. A big TV had been put up above a warming fireplace which was rarely used and to the left of the fireplace stood a fairly beefy collection of movies; the extensive piles of DVD cases spanned from cheesy romantic movies, to poorly made grindhouse horrors even to popular Japanese animated movies for those depressing rainy days.
    The white walls had yet to be adorned with anything although sitting close to the two doors was a large cardboard box. The box had been labelled with a thick black marker pen; “MORE DREAM CATCHERS”.
    The first door, hand painted white to match the walls of the cottage, led to a medium size room which housed a very big, similarly white bed fit for a king and queen with the puffiest blanket you would have ever seen. The bed, like the sofa could have swallowed the couple whole as they cuddled together reading whatever books sat on their respective bedside tables.
    On the side nearest the door, on top of the bed, laid a tea tray. Tiny morsels of uneaten toast covered in a chocolate spread sat on a plate next to two half empty cups of tea just asking to be knocked over by an over enthusiastic cuddle. Across from the bed spied a large mirror and two cat beds in front of a large window which allowed box shaped rays of sun to wake up the couple every morning.
    The rather uncomfortable cat beds bought from a reasonably expensive pet store had been an obvious waste of money. Lawliet and Jakily much preferred to sleep in the large, puffed up duvet rather than on a small, round pillow. The room also led to a small an ensuite bathroom with the everyday essentials; a large shower, sink, ect.
    To the right of the bedroom door was another final room. It was originally a spare room although it had recently been transformed into something much different. Just like the front door, had been painted that same shade of blue and was the only other door in the house to be fitted with a lock. Swinging the unusually heavy door open caused the pitch black room to become filled with natural light as four large bookshelves hid the windows from view.
    The spare room had become a large library filled to the roof with hundreds of different books from around the world; ordered by language and author. Each book had been bought and collected by the couple during their travels around the world. The only source of light was a desk small lamp sitting on a large wooden table with stacks on stacks of notebooks, each book was completely filled with jottings and stories written together by the couple.
    Due to a nasty “I can probably juggle these” accident involving three very heavy books, the lamp was the rooms only source of light. But it didn’t matter, the room was bright enough when they needed it. They would sit down at the desk, cuddled up and just start writing.
    They told stories about their travels, how their journeys ended and how they pushed on even though things got tough. The two of them could find adventure anywhere as long as they put their minds towards it and now, after they had both exhausted their personal lists of places to visit, they had decided to sit down and transform such adventures into great stories for the future generations.