The House- Creative Writing

I moaned softly to myself as I compelled my battered legs to carry me

for the last time along the over-grown garden path, which I had once

skipped down so carelessly as a young boy. I sighed as I surveyed the

acres; the once beautifully manicured, but now utterly disheveled

expanse of garden stretching before me. My gaze rested on the immense

oak tree that cut into the landscape, once majestic and verdant but

now withered and dieing. I apprehensively forced my eyes to look

directly ahead of me and focused them upon the house that had once

given me so much happiness as a boy. I mocked myself for thinking that

I could bring those memories back. I let my eyes rove over the house,

visualizing the rooms behind the now cracked and distorted windows. I

felt my heart begin to beat faster as I saw the one I was looking for.

It was now boarded up; concealing the room I had come to see. My

vision momentarily flittered over the incongruous, gaudily coloured

car that had brought me so far, but there was no turning back; not

now, not...