Shattered-Short Story part 1

Photo from writing prompt #120


We’ve driven by this place a few times; the windows are now all shattered which just confirms to me that it’s vacant. I’ve been in town for twenty-four hours and there’s an itch for me to return. As if it’s calling me begging me to walk inside, I promised I would never step there since I turned eighteen. I promised myself I was done carrying this entire burden on my shoulders. But sometimes the past can call your name and know how to tug on your heartstrings. It knows exactly what to say, it knows how to return when you least expect it.

Today seems like the perfect morning to face my demons, so I set off for the perfect jog to a place that has haunted me for years. My feet remember the footpath, and the scrunching noise from stepping on autumn leaves triggers some childhood memories. It brings me comfort to hear the birds high up in the trees at least I’m not alone.

My smile fades when I begin to see our old house. All of a sudden I question whether it was a good idea to come here. The wind howls and pushes me towards the house as if guiding me to continue walking. In less than two minutes, I’m there. I’m at a place I’ve sworn I’d never return to. The moldy door creaks and I say, “Hello!” as if warning someone of my arrival but my voice is met with silence. I place a hand on the door and push inside.

Cold air hits my face and it’s intriguing how badly I want to shout out for someone to come meet me in the hallway. Even after all these years I want to feel welcome at my mum’s house. Even now after she’s gone a part of me begs for her approval. I cautiously step into our previous living room and notice my favorite spot in the whole house has been ruined.  The chimney is broken in pieces and my window couch is gone. My mum hated that place, she said I spent too much time there reading instead of helping her. I wish she knew that this was my only escape and the shred of hope that kept me going. I place my hands in my pocket for warmth and walk around freely. My eyes slip to the moldy brick walls and the moldy tiles. It seems that some plants have grown through the cement cracks. Looking around here seems weird, it’s like I’m eight again and I expect to see ghosts wandering the hallways or flying into the window. However, all I hear is crickets.

Hope everyone enjoyed reading, part 2 will be posted tomorrow same time.

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Manessah B. says:

    I love this, Twinny! I can really sense her uneasiness in returning home after all those years and the pull to want to face what has haunted her. Can’t wait for part 2!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 💖💖💖Thank you sissy🤗🤗🤗Glad you liked it…Your opinion means a lot to me💖

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Manessah B. says:

        You’re very welcome, sissy. 🤗🤗🤗💞💞💞

        Liked by 1 person

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