loud, obnoxious
The laughter was loud. Obnoxious. Contagious. It spread across the neighborhood. It was early morning. People woke up. They woke up annoyed. But lying in bed, and listening to the laughter, they smiled. An elderly couple almost made their way to the house from whence it came, but thought better of it. It wasn’t that bad. Other neighborhoods had wide beaters, screams, and police alarms all the way into the wee hours of the night. They had someone laughing, this was the first time that he had this much. Let him laugh. He suffered from a mental disease. Other people and other neighborhoods had natural disasters. Somehow, they were free. They didn’t. The morning was breezy, the rays of the sun were lazy. The community was gated. The houses were large. The laughter came with a buzz and a cackle. A crackle. The sounds of the intercom. He had pressed it, and was laughing. Or it had turned on by sound. The latter was more likely. But he did suffer from some mental problems, they had found out. He had lived there for years. He had recently had an accident. His head had been injured. The nurse that had come over initially had told a nosy neighbor that an area of his brain had been damaged, and the news had spread like wildfire. It was a closely knit community. News travelled fast. And he had been a good kid, and still was. He offered to mow their lawns. He offered to sit their pets. He was a good kid. They were old. They had bought these exclusive houses with a lot of saved pensions. They were all old. Except for him. He was a good kid.
The laughter rang through the air, carried by the dancing breeze. It was contagious. And annoying as it could have been, early as it was, it wasn’t that bad. They smiled. All the old people that were now sitting up in creaking beds with creaking bones, they smiled, as if to say, “that youngster. He’s so crazy.” The sun shone its beautiful light. The harsh sun discriminated. In this affluent neighborhood, it shone warm, joyful rays that ran through various colors. And sparkled in their own light. Soon, there would be old couples walking hand in hand, walking dogs that looked just as aged as them, slow, tired. Creaky.
The house that had been purchased a few years ago was made of wood and marble. An interplay of the two that shone with the colors of the sun, and yet, also absorbed its light, a warm glow coming from it. It was homely. It had been home to many a Christmas party where the owner was the youngest, and his neighbors were all much much older. The laughter was loud. Past the lined wooden door with the smooth handle, you entered a lobby. A chandelier facing two windows, one from above, a glass ceiling, and the one above the main door, that glass chandelier cum wind chime twinkled as wind brushed past it. And sparkles as it caught the light. The laughter came from a the kitchen. The sound of blades scraping against one another. Muffled thudding. Heavy panting.