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Most recently published stories in Poets.
Wilting
I look at the house of my childhood and forget about the magic that was once here. All I see is the broken stairs, the ivy that has been there since my childhood that had taken over the side of the house starting to die and break away. I close my eyes and remember the glory days. I remember when this house was gigantic, when the hallways and the stairwells seemed to take forever to get through. I remember the soft carpet under my new feet, the sound of our feet pattering up the stairs. I remember mother calling up the stairs, irritated by the ruckus, but she told us to come down stairs for our snack at three o’clock. My life was a new green, just sprouting, hardly getting anywhere.
By Maddie Cale8 years ago in Poets
