Skip to main content

Stairs away from Home

She stood there and reminisced about home.

She thought of all the wonderful childhood memories associated to that big white house. She thought of running down the stairs every morning when she smelled the waffles in the kitchen. She thought of her mother laughing when her tiny frame knocked into her. She thought of her dad half-heartedly trying to berate her for running on the staircase with a small smile on his face.

 She thought of the little swing on the porch. She thought of Auntie El telling her stories about her mom, sitting on that old swing.

She thought of the pillar in the living room where daddy marked her height every year. She thought of her prom day when daddy almost cried taking a picture with her next to that pillar.

She thought of the day she packed up her room. She thought of how strange the walls looked without ratty pictures from school stuck to them.

She thought of the first time she came back home. She thought of how it had felt.

"Miss, do you wish to keep the house?", the lawyer asked impatiently.

....Did it feel that way now?

"No", her voice faltered while speaking.

Home was gone, so were her parents. Only memories remained. Now tear-strained memories.

She walked down the staircase of her parent's house- her childhood home- for the last time but not before taking it in again once more.
Another look to her parent's abandoned room. Another look to the kitchen.

 One last time, she ran down the stairs with tears in her eyes but a small smile on her lips as she looked another time at the table where her father would have sat.







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Stoner Agony

Every tear a waterfall  In the night the stormy night  she'll close her eyes  In the night the stormy night  away she'd fly  And dreams of  Para-para-paradise  Para-para-paradise  Para-para-paradise  She closed her eyes and tried to block out the voices. Those screaming outside and those in her head asking her to flee. She tried not to give in to the voices in her head- the voices that told her to go back to the numbness. Just so she didn't have to deal with the voices outside screaming in agony. She didn't like the darkness that the numbness brought with itself with it. However, the voices outside were tearing at her insides. She decided to listen to the ones in her mind, thinking that they knew which suffering was better. She opened the drawer beside her bed and took out a vial of liquid from it. As she reverted back to her old ways of coping, her body slowly grew limp as her mind gave way to the uncertain vagueness. Ever so s...

I wish or I wonder

I wish for a happy ending I wish for a happy ever after Then I wonder if they exist I wish for eternal love I wish for unconditional love Then I wonder if such can be found I wish for peace I wish for brotherhood Then I wonder if there is any at all I wish for pride I wish for glory Then I wonder if they are as pretty I wish for you I wish for your love Then I wonder if it is real I wish for my happiness I wish for my wishes to be fulfilled Then I wonder if it shall ever be like that It is hard to believe when all in the world proves it impossible. Later mes amis!

The Immortal Marvel : Guest Post

Helloo again! Okay so me and Ice Maiden, my fellow blogger  (we had kinda coerced each other into starting blogging) were suddenly really fascinated with the idea of guest posts so we did one for each other's blogs. My first guest post, which is pretty great, is Ice Maiden's view about blogging and writing. Here it goes: Coherent ramblings in digital view, To old school-diaries we bid adieu. From wise-old sayings to crazy rants, Everything under the sun it has. From anger outbursts and paradise dreaming, To weepy poems and guilty confessing Here words gain a peculiar sophistication Even immoral shit is given due consideration Diverse opinions bonded as a family, Blogosphere functions with benedictions from the almighty A brilliant source to express in public, And venture out in the world, open ended. Eons of talent still waiting to be read To acceptance of great potential, they lead. Challenges on our threshold, such is our creed Ends with imaginary swagger, not gr...