The first Kurt Vonnegut book I read was TimeQuake, a novel/memoir that was split between a sci-fi plotline featuring Kilgore Trout and a retrospective of Vonnegut's life. I was about eleven and at the time it seemed strange to me that an author could have such shock and wonder rereading his past work. And yet here i am staring at a word document not six years later wondering 'I wrote this when?' If memory serves I wrote this for an assignment where imagery was supposed to play a pivotal role. I might have went overboard with it here. If I could go back and tell the past me what to change it would to make it less about me, stop using the word 'I', and most importantly don't tell the reader what you are feeling show them through actions.

The room being described is the basement of my good friend Kevin's home, which is not even close to the condition described here.
(Kevin is the one who programmed this site, so that's why I said that.)
The Dust Room


I'm walking down the slick red painted staircase when it hits me, a cloud of vile, stinky, irritating dust attacking me from all directions. I struggle to stand as I am bombarded with wave after wave of itchy particles that seems bent on clogging all my pores. I cover my nose and face with one hand and use the other to support myself on a rickety old washing machine as my body involuntarily coughs to clear my airways. After a few moments of loud body-rattling coughs I straighten up and look around at my immediate surroundings.

I stand in the basement of a fifty year old, slightly deteriorating house. Looking to the right I see the dusty old stairs I came down on. Looking left I see the dusty old washing machine I used for support (now sporting a dent from where I grabbed it). And looking ahead I see and hear a noisy, rusty old furnace that, you guessed it, is layered in coat after coat of dust. It really isn't much of a basement at all, its more of a dust room.

I stumble forward, hand over mouth, and observe the water-stained ceiling, which looks very fragile and clammy. I reach to touch it, but decide against it after spotting a fairly large spider that looked to be in the process of adding an addition to her web and judging by the fangs could defend herself pretty well.

The dust room is just one of three rooms in the basement of my friend Kevin's house and it is by far the cleanest, which isn't saying much. It is separated from the other rooms by a dusty shower curtain which is being used as a rather ugly room divider. I take another deep breath and pass through to the next room which is the Rec room.

The Rec room (or Wreck room) contains everything that doesn't fit in the rest of the house. I take a visual scan and see an old rusty tricycle, a stained mirror, at least thirty Nerf arrows strewn about the room, and dozens of other out of place objects. I spot an old piano and being a musical person go to play a few tunes, only to find that it is badly out-of-tune. There is a desk in the corner of the room that at one time was used for homework but now is just plain used, with peeling blue paint and water damage from uncoastered drinks.

The third and final room in the basement is the computer room, so named for the fact that it dose contain a computer. If not given the name of the room you might have named the room “trip room” on account of all the low hanging objects like broken chairs and rusty old sewing machines. To get to the computer you need either Olympian caliber jumping skills or amazing improvisation to crawl under moth-eaten desks and shimmy in between crates of stuff left over from the move. I choose to try my hand at one long leap over boxes. I put my shoulders back bend my knees and jump!

Unfortunately I have far from Olympic jumping skills and get my foot caught on a yellow crate full of office supplies and fall spread-eagled on my back in a heap. Send help!