Ms_Hayward

This time, I’m walking down that hallway again but the lights are out. The paint is decayed and the wood floor under my feet strains to hold my shifting weight. Dead leaves clutter the floor, and crunch under every step, making a loud crackling noise, same as the paint falling off the wall under the pressure of my finger nails as I drag my hand angrily down the hallway. Even though my eyes dart to every door, I know which one I’ll end up opening. I’ve been here before at better times and I know I shouldn’t be here now. This place is a catalyst for subconscious feelings as of late.  It surrounds me with layers of old walls, leaving me in the middle to find my way out. The skin on the bottoms of my feet are covered in dirt from outside. I slightly remember walking through the open field in front of the old house, amongst once beautiful but now dead rosebushes and vines, covering the steps and hand rails as if I haven’t been here for a hundred years. No one is here, I listened to utter silence in the living room for what seemed like an hour, touching the worn velvet that had turned from red to brown on the living room couch. This place used to be so beautiful, used to be… I can’t find the words to say. Two more steps of dried up wood and leaves, and I can feel the rusted door knob when I reach my hand out. Not a surprise after how easily I just erased a 3 inch border of paint three feet up the wall all the way down the hallway. I close my eyes and wish I could smell the garden again. I wish I could feel the gloss of freshly painted floors under my feet, and the fine finish of the silver handles on the bedroom door I was about to open. I remember… white painted borders, with yellow floral wallpaper, in those small country style patterns. I remember, lots of flowers in every room, I remember, hand sewn quilts covering the ends of the beds and window seats with books stacked to the side. I’ll probably never be able to make it like that again. This place has lost it’s life it seems. No one comes here anymore. I miss a place I now know I had no control or say so over. All the good things I thought I held so dear and so close to me, things I thought I would always see, I now know I took for granted. I miss that smell. I miss how everything seemed so real. I want that feeling back, I want that sanctuary and that incredible rush I always had when I was here. My heart feels sad, seeing this place fall apart like this. I feel hopeless, because I don’t think I can put it all back together again. I don’t even know if it’s possible. The last few times I’ve been here, it’s been less and less of what it was. I can’t understand it. It was the same so many times in the past. It was, beautiful. Incredibly. I felt home. I felt like I was missing something, always, which I think it what kept me coming back. Always kept me thinking about it. I think I miss the sound of the horses that were always outside, the girl in the white dress, the vibrant colors, the life! I never do open that door, this is right around the time I wake up. I always wake up feeling the same way; slightly irritated but curious.

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