This was actually something I wrote for my school work... hope you enjoy
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As I approached the dusty, old house, I smiled as I remembered all the happy memories of playing with other kids of my age on these roads and sidewalks as a kid. How life was so simple back then. As I stood before the huge wooden door, I took a deep breath and opened the door.
There was only pin drop silence except for the groan of the door. I cautiously entered the house, my assistant not far behind. I took my cane and wobbled as I looked around. I saw a doll on the floor, it was old and dirty but even then I smiled. I remembered the times where I played with my siblings and how we all were so close together, I remembered how I always took my doll whenever and wherever we played.
I guess that all changed.
I stumbled to the room which was the exact place my parents used to sleep every night. I remembered when I was scared about the howling storm outside or when my dreams came to taunt me, how I always scuttled to my parents' room for comfort.
I guess that also changed.
I remembered the times where all of us would play a game and maybe watch a movie in the cinema. I remembered my mom sneaking food in the cinema although we were not allowed to.
I guess everything changed when that bomb rolled and burst in our house. There was no one else to play with. No one else to help me when I was scared. No more sneaking in food in the cinema. My whole life was turned around when I was 12, just before my 13th birthday. For many years I dealt with strife and grief, I had to handle the bullying that came along with being an orphan. I remembered crying in my bed, wishing I could just see them one last time.
I turned around slowly as I staggered to the flight of stairs before me, my assistant not far behind guided me and took me up slowly. Step by step. Foot by foot. I faltered, my assistant's quick hands grabbing me before my fall. I gasped, shivering and frightened at what just happened. With help, I picked myself up and walked up the rest of the steps. Letting go of my assistant's hand I took the cane which was given to me, and wobbled to a locked room. Fumbling with a chain of keys and after trying several keys, I finally got the door opened. With a creak, I slowly entered the room. The brightly lit room smelt musty and there was a tiny bed in the corner, so small not even a 11 year old could fit in it. I asked my assistant to leave the room so I could spend a few minutes alone. I walked up to the bed and sat down. As I stared at the wall opposite me, I remembered all my lost friends who left me when I became an orphan and I also remembered my lost family members and siblings, the tragedies of living as an orphan when my parents died when that bomb entered our home. I remembered how I was told there was something wrong with me and how I was the one to blame for everyone's death.
But I also remembered how those things changed me for good. How I learnt compassion and empathy, how I learnt to put myself in someone else's shoes. How I learnt never to take anything for granted. I learnt that even if the world is filled with greed and hate, love is still out there. Somewhere, we just need to search for it. Now lying down, I gazed up at the ceiling. I felt my eyes drooping. I took my last breath, and suddenly all was quiet.
