One Last Goodbye

Hey guys! So this is the only thing I've written on here so far. I didn't know what to call it so I'm just going to call it a short story. Please, please, please, tell me what you think! It would be greatly appreciated (:

As I packed up the last few boxes in the almost-empty house, I began to realize how much I would miss this place. I stood up and walked away from the bin that read "glass".

Stepping out into the hallway, I noticed how the old wooden floors creaked when they were stepped on the right way. The walls were lined with cracks and a few holes here and there. The cob webs made there way from corner to corner, from one end of the hallway to the other.

I kept walking.

As I continued to walk down the hallway, the floors continued to creak. The faster I walked, the louder the creaking seemed to become. It was creepy, but also comforting in a way. To know that I had lived in this house since there were no creaking sounds. My presence has altered the house in someway. Knowing that I have left marks gave me a satisfied feeling. I made my way into the next empty room .

Although the whole house was mostly empty, this room seemed to carry a deeper feeling. It was empty alright, but it felt emptier than the other rooms.

"GOODBYE", I shouted at the top of my lungs.

The bare room echoed as if it were saying goodbye to me too. It frightened me in a way. When I looked out the window, I could just barely see the light blue house through the trees. This house was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by an abundance of trees, but there were other houses close by. That was one thing I liked about the house. Having neighbors, yet not having neighbors. I felt secluded when I wanted to be.

I walked back to box filled with a bunch of miscellaneous glass items, picked it up, and walked out of that house for the very last time.

I shut the paint-chipped door behind me.

That door had been opened and closed so many times in the past few days. It had been strange seeing it open so often. That door was hardly ever opened. I hardly ever left the house before.

I observed the outside of the house one last time. The sides were painted a nice light grey color and the shudders were an even lighter grey to match. The outside of the house looked so nice. By the looks of it, you would assume that the inside looks nice too. But it doesn't. It's all beat up and worn down on the inside, yet not a mark seems to be in sight on the perimeter.

While saying my last goodbyes, it finally hit me. I was leaving the place that held so many memories. These walls are the very walls that kept me safe. There are marks, and holes, and cracks, in this home, and not all of them can be repaired, but they are reminders of what the house can withstand. That empty room that always felt so hollow can be filled, and it will probably never be filled completely, but it can gradually become a little less hollow and a little more packed. No matter how much I hate that house, I love it.

How could I possibly say goodbye?

Thanks for reading! I was trying to compare the house to something else. Thoughts on what you think the house was supposed to represent? Leave your comments please :) I'd love to know what you think!