Writing Group: Short Story: Houses

This week we all drew different descriptions of houses, homes. Some were creepy, some were sad, some were normal.

My Prompt: Red Brick – This home is made of sturdy red brick and has seen better days. It has several large trees sitting on the overgrown lawn. Who lives here?

The tire swing swayed in the breeze, the frayed rope still managing to connect it to the branch of the mighty oak tree above. A swing, that if used as intended, would probably bring the rider crashing to the ground. An apt metaphor for the house behind the aged tree. From a distance it still looked whole, the red brick still standing out in contrast to the blue sky above but move closer and you can see that the brick should be brighter. The trim on the house was once white, but dirt and years have stained it yellow. 

The concrete path was cracked, dandelions poking through, reaching sunny faces towards the skies. The seeds blowing unclaimed wishes into the wild. I remember when this house was new, when time had not made a mockery of my childhood. I do not dare step through the warped door frame to walk down halls coated with peeling floral wallpaper. I don’t want to see the shambles of the room that was once mine. My space, my refuge. My imagination has destroyed that place enough, the reality would be more than my heart could bear. 

We were happy here or so I thought. Until my parents’ secrets pulled our family apart. Now as an adult I understand that they didn’t know how to communicate and thus they took solace in the arms of others. But as a child I did not understand why I had to move so far away with our grandparents, only able to take a few things. Abandoning so many of my treasures, not that I knew it at the time. I went from my own space to a smaller shared one. It is no wonder to me that I crave solitude now. 

They promised us we would be back, in this house and as a family, whole again. But the days turned to weeks to months and finally to years. The happiness here was a mirage. Even once I could drive I did not return for years and decades. Yet here I finally stand because I need to. This is the last of my demons to cross off the list. I have said my pieces to my parents, my siblings and I have come to terms with the fact that we lashed out in dealing with trauma. We are friends now, again. And now this house, a place once full of child laughter and adult silences, now just haunted by memory. It has taught me many things, the most important being that my own home should always be filled with open communication.  

Thank you KW Photography for allowing me to use your wonderful photos!

INSTAGRAM│TWITTER│YOUTUBE │PATREON

If you like the banner check out this design and others at Canva!