Michelle Shaftoe

Memory Lane

Jenna had walked down this road many times, yet she had never noticed it before. The tiny alleyway, its entrance covered with hanging ivy. Fiddling with a strand of hair that had fallen over her face, as she had done for many years, she felt an urge to lift the ivy and go in. It was a strong pull and she didn't resist. She pulled back the ivy and gasped. It was a little country lane, peaceful and serene, with many different doors scattered down the length of the seemingly endless lane. The ivy across the entrance was now blocking out all the noise from the street; all she could hear were birds tweeting their many different songs, bees buzzing around in the sun, and what sounded like the trickle of water. It reminded her of the creek she used to play in when she was a child.