Chapter 17: Old memories

AMERICA DAVIES

The house smelt of cinder and ash, every step on the wooden floor produced a loud creak and the webs of spiders had been made in every possible corner of the place. Small pots of various plants had been the cinderella of the dusty windows but a few termites and insects had made them their homes.

A few familiar features like the patched up couch we use to settle on together or the small old fashioned television we used to watch everyday still stood their places except the constant changing of the seasons over the years and the fact that they were not tended to had forced them to give way to climate changes to destroy them.

I had no reason to visit our old house since my parents died, it was a little on the outskirts of town but for some reason, they had chosen it as their secret hideout.

My little bed still stood sturdy in my bedroom, my dad had used the strongest and finest wood back then. An unpleasant smell of tobacco still lingered in the air and some unfamiliar de