The New Old House Novels & Stories

Imagine little baby feet running all over the new house breaking every thing that their chubby hands can get into. Our farm house had been rebuilt to its former glory . If not, I say that the new house is bigger and modern looking although, I must admit that I miss the old house, but we need a bigger room for my parents so they can have more space in order to reproduce and for me and for my grandmother and also, guests rooms. I am becoming friendly, I try to make new friends now.

“I doubt if it exists in a triangular shape and one would later on find out that the house keeps on decreasing in size as he/she moves from the side of the house all the way to the far end” Martha wanted to lighten even her mood as well. She kept observing the house as the particulars of the house though there wasn’t much light available in that area. The design of the house was very old, “Something you’d only witness in vintage movies” said Martha “with a horror genre” she further added. The house hasn’t been refurbished for the last Eighty years it seems.

He cleaned his eyes and cleared his throat. ‘We got married. At first she was against it. She wanted me to have kids of my own but I don't want kids if it’s not with Salome. We managed to build this house with our own two hands. It took time but it was worth it. However the joy did not last long. Salome died here in my hands. In this very house. Can you see why I can't let everything go? That's the reason I can't sell this house.’ Old John’s was a crying mess.

Just like the shoes, they were a matching set. Kian had just started rushing over to clean them up when Isabel walked out from the kitchen carrying dishes. "Oh, sorry about the mess, Lane," she said brightly. She placed the food on the table, smiling with the ease of a hostess welcoming guests into her home. "I just bought this place recently. Luckily, I have Mr. Newman to thank for it. If he hadn’t arranged work for me and given me those generous annual bonuses, there’s no way I could’ve afforded a place in this neighborhood."

I nod my head in response and look straight, feeling the plane taking off slowly from the ground. We were finally leaving this place behind. I took this chance and look out of the window, admiring the beauty of my hometown. “Goodbye,” I say softly, placing my palm on the window and feel a tear roll down my cheeks. Mom grasps my hand and says, “Don’t worry. You will make many friends in New York. Don’t think about what happened anymore okay?” I gave her a sad smile and look away. Never look back at this place again and move on. This will be my new beginning. I repeat this in my head a hundred times before I drift off to sleep wondering what my future will be like...

My pension and savings were enough for a downpayment on this beautiful, old house. The house had belonged to the Grimsby family, the oldest and richest family in town, whose final living member, Old Man Grimsby, had recently passed away. The house, with its wealth of antique furniture, strange curios, and vast rooms, was more than enough to accommodate the now-expanded Field Team 42. In many ways, it felt like the perfect home for them. But as the last remnants of Dust Bowl’s history lingered, so too did the past they were all trying to leave behind.

The building didn't look like much, with little to no decorations but it looked pretty decent. Way better than my previous place. I knocked on the front door three times. It swung open after a few minutes to reveal a dark skin middle-aged woman with short black hair and puzzled brown eyes. Her furrowed eyebrows indicated her throwing questions in my direction and waiting for an introduction. “Hi, my name is Maya Jensen and this is my best friend, Violet Williams. I'm a new tenant here under Armando Corporations” I smiled politely and gave a little wave, Violet doing the same behind me.

This part of the country seemed to be for folks who had moved to be far away from other people. They turned down a beaten track running alongside a turbulent river. The old house sat alone in a clearing surrounded by golden and rust coloured leafy trees. The home looked well-loved and cared for, even with the paint peeling off the weathered white walls and crooked shutters. A little old lady came out on the front step as their black SUV pulled up outside the house. She had milky white curly hair with streaks of auburn red, still holding onto what once was. Nueva could see a lot of Mira in the lady's timeworn and kind face.

As Ronin and Logan stepped into the peculiar house, they were greeted by an atmosphere of nostalgia and mystery. The old house stood weathered and worn, its timeworn facade bearing the marks of countless years gone by. Each crack and crevice told a story of forgotten memories and bygone eras. The front porch, once grand and inviting, now sagged under the weight of time. The wooden steps creaked under their feet, as if whispering secrets from the past. The weathered paint on the front door peeled, revealing layers of history concealed within.

Chapter: Shadows and Sparks The morning was unusually quiet. Shelly’s aunt, Rita, had gone to a neighbor’s brunch, and her uncle, James, was off at his weekly golf game. The house felt calm, almost too calm, with the faint hum of the heater filling the spaces where conversation usually lived.