She searched for the street. Was it here? No, up those steps over there. Yes, home at last, back in her street of memories! She’d been happy there.
But it wasn’t the same. Those apartments weren’t there, Auntie Julie’s house was. And Jamey’s house was nothing like the one there now. Jamey’s house smiled. That brick box frowned. She’d played here. Marbles, hopscotch, chase, ‘you’re it’! She remembered kicking a ball through Mrs Mason’s window, then running and hiding behind that oak tree. Oh, it had gone.
Her heart leapt. The little house she grew up in was still there! As she hurried towards it her mind filled with images, her imagination ran wild. Tibbles the fat black cat brushed against her legs, an ice cream van chimed a merry tune. Grandad waved!
But there were boards covering the windows. Grumpy Mrs Brown wasn’t peeping out from behind her net curtains next door. Why did a sign on the wall say ‘Condemned’?
Condemned. On the day she left home, all those years ago, tragedy sadness and despair awaited her on the bottom step. She’d returned to relive her memories. It had been the only place she’d ever been happy.
It seemed her happy memories were condemned too.
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan. This week’s picture is by John Brand.