I peered into the house, the bleak and dull furniture obscured my vision of anything further than the living room. I carefully stepped in, feeling the floor bend underneath my weight, creaking like a bent branch on the verge of snapping. I slowly put my other foot in, making sure that I didn’t make any more sound. I slowly lowered it onto the floor and felt the dusty wood, old and unattended to. It was cool, a chilling but refreshing feeling, as if somebody had put my feet in cold water after being on a long run. There was nobody around, and dust littered the air, filling the room. The sun that filtered through it gave of a warm feeling, like the first rays of light after a cold and dark rainstorm. I walked in slowly, so slow that a turtle would have had a chance of getting to the living room before I did. Strangely enough, contrasting with the dusty smell and monotonous furniture, was a bright and multi-colored kitchen, filled with mouth-watering aromas. I could smell cookies, fresh out of the oven, as if a mother had made a batch for her small children. The light was blinding, like waking up in the middle of a summer day, compared to the suffocating darkness of the previous room. The house, as it seemed, was created by a madman, alternating from dust and dull to extravagant and ever changing colors. The different sensory intakes were confusing and maddening. In one room, the dust seemed to be thicker than the walls of the house itself, while in the next room the vapors of aromas from a Thanksgiving meal almost sent me to the ground. I walked into the next room, and found a curious thing. The room was filled with various objects. I spotted few vents, with little LED lights surrounding them like soldiers. There were speakers in various spots in the room, as if somebody had carelessly thrown them in the walls. In the midst of it all, was a most peculiar piece of fruit. I cautiously walked in, feeling the old wood beneath my feet disappear, changing into a freezing, polished tile. I approached the food in front of me. It was alien to the city. A mix of red and green swirled around the fruit like somebody had thrown paint into a mixer and taken a picture of it. It was odorless, but had a slick surface while having a somewhat solidness to it. I slowly raised the fruit to my mouth, and sunk my teeth deep into it. Thousands of flavors flew into my mouth, all different types from sweet to sour. My taste buds tingled with the new sensation, all flavors somehow perfectly mixed into a single one. Then the speakers started to emit their symphony. I heard bleating of animals and babies crying, as if a child had snuck up on a horse and scared it, sending the animal into a frenzy and scaring the child itself. The vents released every scent in the house, I recognized the buttery smell of fresh popcorn, as if somebody had just bought it from the theater. The lights flashed, each one a different color, raiding my senses. I saw a crimson, dark as blood on the scene of a murder to the cyan blue of the noon sky on a clear day. Then I felt a tingling, as if there was a small earthquake. I couldn’t move, taking in every aroma, blinking light, piercing sound, poking needle, experiencing every taste. But the one sound thing out among the madness, like a pen mark against a white paper, was the loud bang that echoed through the house. I turned, and my eyes widened. The door slammed shut.