ACME
19-04-2015, 06:50 AM
Here is the audio for this story
http://www.mediafire.com/download/s8u9wyjv5dr3ldb/the+house+of+my+heart.rar
//////
The house of my heart
What do you need in order to be happy
The little girl in our short story has a chance to
think about this when she’s invited to a grand
house filled with luxury. Anne will read “The
house of my heart”, by American author Kira
Jassey.
Carla sat down on the steps. In front of her, the
garden sloped away into the distance, with
roses — a few still full of summer beauty — and
an old stone fountain. At her back was a large
house with tall windows. The address being
Mansion Avenue, all of the homes around it
were grand. But none, Carla thought, was as
grand and stylish as this — the home of Serena
Tray, queen of all girls at St. Mary’s Catholic
School.
Carla had been pleased and surprised by the
invitation to play at Serena’s home. Like most
12-year-olds attending St. Mary’s, Carla came
from a solid middle-class family. They had a
solid middle-class house: nice, tidy, nothing
spectacular. She didn’t expect to be noticed by
a girl everyone treated like royalty.
Serena certainly looked like a princess: her
clothes were immaculate and expensive. Her
hair, dark and shiny, fell just to her neck, and
she tucked it “just so” behind her ears. She was
like a little movie star, and her house was the
kind of place where lovely women in elegant
dresses and handsome men in tuxedos drank
cocktails and made small talk.
Right now, though, there was trouble in paradise.
Carla could hear no clinking of glasses,
no sound of small talk. Instead, loud and angry
royal sobs were coming into the garden from
the kitchen, where Mr. Tray was trying to tell his
daughter something. Whatever he was saying,
though, it was clear that Serena wouldn’t have
it. No, she just wouldn’t! She absolutely
refused. Father and daughter came into the
garden and sat on the steps. Now Carla could
see what the fuss was about. Serena had been
asked to help in the kitchen with a chore: to fill
an empty pepper mill with fresh peppercorns.
Carla looked at father and daughter locked in
battle over this task. She peeked at Mr. Tray’s
watch. Thank goodness: only a few more minutes
and her own father would be there to pick
her up — and take her away her from this madness.
If Serena’s dad asked her, Carla, to fill a pepper
mill, would she do it? What a question, Carla
thought. I’d do it in a flash. Then I’d try on all of
Serena’s rich-girl clothes, go shopping with her
fashionable mom, and later go for a swim with
the two golden retrievers in the mansion-size
pool.
Inside the house, the doorbell sounded. Mr.
Tray put down his bag of peppercorns and
went to answer it. Serena dried her eyes and
started to fill the mill with little handfuls of
pepper, a sad expression on her face. Carla
looked past her into the house: her eyes took in
the deep carpets, valuable paintings, and shining
tables. Beyond these was a bright rectangle
— a portal of light with the figure of a man
stepping into it.
That’s my Dad at the door, Carla thought. I’d fill
the pepper mill. I’d solve world hunger, cure
disease, and fill the pepper mill. I’ve held his
hand through all my childhood, and I’ll sit with
him in his old age. What I wouldn’t do for him!
He wouldn’t even have to ask. These are the
feelings — deep, broad, and shining — that furnish
the house of my heart.
//////
The End
.
http://www.mediafire.com/download/s8u9wyjv5dr3ldb/the+house+of+my+heart.rar
//////
The house of my heart
What do you need in order to be happy
The little girl in our short story has a chance to
think about this when she’s invited to a grand
house filled with luxury. Anne will read “The
house of my heart”, by American author Kira
Jassey.
Carla sat down on the steps. In front of her, the
garden sloped away into the distance, with
roses — a few still full of summer beauty — and
an old stone fountain. At her back was a large
house with tall windows. The address being
Mansion Avenue, all of the homes around it
were grand. But none, Carla thought, was as
grand and stylish as this — the home of Serena
Tray, queen of all girls at St. Mary’s Catholic
School.
Carla had been pleased and surprised by the
invitation to play at Serena’s home. Like most
12-year-olds attending St. Mary’s, Carla came
from a solid middle-class family. They had a
solid middle-class house: nice, tidy, nothing
spectacular. She didn’t expect to be noticed by
a girl everyone treated like royalty.
Serena certainly looked like a princess: her
clothes were immaculate and expensive. Her
hair, dark and shiny, fell just to her neck, and
she tucked it “just so” behind her ears. She was
like a little movie star, and her house was the
kind of place where lovely women in elegant
dresses and handsome men in tuxedos drank
cocktails and made small talk.
Right now, though, there was trouble in paradise.
Carla could hear no clinking of glasses,
no sound of small talk. Instead, loud and angry
royal sobs were coming into the garden from
the kitchen, where Mr. Tray was trying to tell his
daughter something. Whatever he was saying,
though, it was clear that Serena wouldn’t have
it. No, she just wouldn’t! She absolutely
refused. Father and daughter came into the
garden and sat on the steps. Now Carla could
see what the fuss was about. Serena had been
asked to help in the kitchen with a chore: to fill
an empty pepper mill with fresh peppercorns.
Carla looked at father and daughter locked in
battle over this task. She peeked at Mr. Tray’s
watch. Thank goodness: only a few more minutes
and her own father would be there to pick
her up — and take her away her from this madness.
If Serena’s dad asked her, Carla, to fill a pepper
mill, would she do it? What a question, Carla
thought. I’d do it in a flash. Then I’d try on all of
Serena’s rich-girl clothes, go shopping with her
fashionable mom, and later go for a swim with
the two golden retrievers in the mansion-size
pool.
Inside the house, the doorbell sounded. Mr.
Tray put down his bag of peppercorns and
went to answer it. Serena dried her eyes and
started to fill the mill with little handfuls of
pepper, a sad expression on her face. Carla
looked past her into the house: her eyes took in
the deep carpets, valuable paintings, and shining
tables. Beyond these was a bright rectangle
— a portal of light with the figure of a man
stepping into it.
That’s my Dad at the door, Carla thought. I’d fill
the pepper mill. I’d solve world hunger, cure
disease, and fill the pepper mill. I’ve held his
hand through all my childhood, and I’ll sit with
him in his old age. What I wouldn’t do for him!
He wouldn’t even have to ask. These are the
feelings — deep, broad, and shining — that furnish
the house of my heart.
//////
The End
.