Little Lilith in The New World

By Taylor Brierley, East Coast College

Overlooking the horizon, a house made of wood and cement. The bricks of the house were a rusty blue colour, where the roof was perfectly thatched with thin strips of golden brown. The house on a hill, it’s street with different ages. The architecture of a new age, modern and simplistic. All white and a coal grey. The ashy air fills the window of the rusty house. Its cottage exterior was no different to what hid inside its walls. Different colours, but similar styles. Purple and green filled its walls and furniture. The street was like a contrast of eras. Within the Modern approach of the street, was that fine aged house.

A tinted tan haze filled the air as the pollution grew greater throughout the years. The new houses were a disaster to the world. An ugly excuse for the new age.

“I dislike this new approach that this new generation wish upon the world” claimed the little old lady, which guards her little house.

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On the opposite side of the street was a home in the style of a classic 60s home, the second contrast to the new world. It was a red and yellow home, red bricks/yellow sidings.

“I miss this world the most...” claimed the little old lady.

Inside the world of the 60s, was a retro yellow, red, and blue scheme. Some splashes of white dripped into the room. It didn’t drown out the other colours, but complimented them together. In that house lived a couple, they were dressed loose and comfortably with locks of grey filling their hair behind their colourful headbands. They had a little chihuahua, named Poodle. Didn’t make sense but they liked how it made them chuckle.

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Next to her home was the dusty white and grey build she dreads. She’d rather die than be caught walking into those. The families were loud, screaming rats everywhere. Even those who live in the new world hate the noise which live in those houses. It’s deafening.

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Despite this hellish contrast, sunrise was the best time of day. Little Lilith, the old lady, loved it. It brought a crisp cold feel in the air, misty and white. It was as if it had been snowing, but without any snow. It didn’t snow in her area; she couldn’t care any less about it. But what her care relied on was her perfect world changing.

Before her home became a street, she owned some of the land the new houses sit on. It was an illegal build. The law was corrupt and unfair. The government tried to make her give up her land, she refused. On impulse they built anyway, she was simply ignored. People who live on her land know the story; they feel guilty but they want a place to live. They’ve tried many times to bond with her but she declined with aggression, no one can blame her and feel deep guilt.