One River Front House

The only way for me to get around the city was by boat. Where there should have been roads there were canals and where a normal person would have a lawn in front of a house there were docks. As you slowly paddled through the various neighborhoods small children were playing in inner tubes and blow up rafts tied to the docks. Some had even fashioned rafts from logs tied together with a border of empty soda bottles.  Every one in a while there were bridges you would float under, bridges leading to the different buildings in the city and bridges leading to the forest just on the outskirts. It was a peaceful place until you reached the house no one seemed to want to realize. It was run down and smelled of old stale happiness. You could almost hear the laughter of the children running around the ghost of what home it used to be. Once it could have been a place of glee but it had seen long vacant winters and abuse since then. Only the small bit of color left on the house was evidence someone once cared about it.