Challenge: Inspire Me

Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic

 

I have left behind a wall of ghosts in the nooks and crannies of my old house. It is better that they are left there. Who knows what havoc might happen if they were set loose. The ghost of my first winter hides in the attic, the winter of ’78, coldest on record. I was four months old at the time, but already it seemed like eternity. I howled my lungs out and shivered as the chill crept into my throat. 

The ghost of my father sleeps in his bed. The rotting mattress collects little flitting bugs and stirs up my emotions when I peek through the crack in the door. I can hear him snore. It must have been the snoring that killed him as he slept. It was so loud it shook the rafters. It vibrated my bed and woke me from my dreams, and my nightmares, the nightmares I had of seeing my parents die. 

The ghost of my first kiss wanders around the kitchen, searching for its lover. He is hiding somewhere between here and the Mississippi River. 

My tantrums have raised ghosts of their own, especially the wicked ones involving much screaming and banging of doors. The hole I kicked has never been fixed.

Out in the yard, where the grass is as tall as my waist, the ghost of tomorrow creeps, searching for me, waiting to pounce on me and my bones, where they lie hidden under the stairs in the back. It is always waiting.

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