Generated from Midjourney.
I was slowly walking along the path in front of the house. It's been years since anyone was here and even me. At one time, the bushes that grew on either side of this path would have spilled over the concrete, but now they are growing, and there is nothing to hold back, leaving very little space to walk. I know what drew me here after all these years. I had many opportunities to come here but never wanted to. Because maybe it was the anniversary when it happened. Perhaps that's why I return to this place, to memory.
I walked to the front door; it was open, a little messy as if the house had spent all these years waiting for my return, not closing the door and giving up on itself as everyone else had left it. I was about to knock on the door, but something pulled me back. Should I do this? It's been more than 20 years since that night I was here, but am I willing to reopen the wounds? Which I have spent the last 20 years trying to heal.
I gently placed my hand on the door; it almost seemed to open by itself. I stepped forward, my legs shaking with quiet anticipation; I didn't know if it was pure fear or excitement. But the strange thing is, I don't remember anything about that night, so why am I so nervous?
I entered the house thoroughly, even daring to take a few steps forward. Unbeknownst to me, tears began forming in my eyes, and I moved forward slowly this time. I looked around the house; it was unexpected to come here after so many years. I am standing there, the house that has been my nightmare for the rest of my life. I was only eight years old when it happened, but I still remember it all clearly, because the memory was so strong, etched in my mind, so bright and clear.
I walked through the room, trying to ignore the old furniture inside. I clenched my hands into fists, but they didn't stop shaking. The closer I got to her house, the more memories flooded. The smile on her face and the look of love in her eyes vanished quickly. The door is wide open, calling me back to my childhood.
Every life story has a beginning, middle and end. It was the same for me. And that was the end, but was that day the beginning or the end? The beginning of the end.
