There Will Never Be Another You

Chapter One

             "It's sad when someone you know, becomes someone you knew."          -Henry Rollins

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Chapter One: Introduction

 The creepy, dusty, dark brown wooden stairs creaked beneath my footsteps, as I walked down the staircase. This house was a mess, I thought. I took a deep breath, carried on, hearing the faint creaks and whines of the staircase. I was so glad I had wore these boots! The deep shade of brown on my leather boots were wearing off now, since I hadn't bought a new pair.

 Once I had reached on the ground floor, I looked around. The blue paint on the walls were wearing off, slowly crumplng to the ground. The floor was filled with dust and pieces of shattered windows, and wooden pieces. Chairs were scattered all over, windows smashed and broken to pieces, the entrance door was knocked down, the breeze creeping in the house, making me shudder.

 The faint breeze was nice, but it was cold too since winter was coming up. Today was October 5th, a day I would never forget. Winter seemed to be right around the corner here in the UK, England. This street was called '7th Skett Street' (A/N It's made up!). I looked to my right, finding the small kitchen, which used to be filled with joy and a sweet aroma of freshly new baked cake.

 I looked to my left, finding the living room. The beige walls were almost crumpled to dust, looking so fragile, only clumps of bricks were left. The living rooms sofas were half destroyed, and burned. The breeze seemed to have made this house look a little too cliché. I smiled sadly, this place looked so hopeless? Sad? Un-lucky? No, the right word was devastated.

 Nobody deserves to be in this state. This place is just simply wrecked and ravaged. Upstairs was an even horrible sight. The hallway was so fragile, if I went up there again, I doubt it could hold my weight again. The rooms were burned, shattered windows, broken pieces of wood and bricks, beds burned. Simply everything was burned.

 Nothing seemed the way it was before. Everything was just not the way it used to be. I shook my head, trying to let go of all those memories. Those horrible, horrible memories. My parents bedroom was burned to dust. Nothing left of it. The guest rooms were ravaged, where my other relatives were staying. I let one tear fall. Only one. I wouldn't cry, it would do no use. 

 It wouldn't make them come back. It would only make me weaker. I have to get a hold of myself. I took a deep breath and walked on, clutching my leather jacket closer to my chest. I observed the kitchen, everything scorched. I sighed and moved on to examine the other damages of the living room. I looked up to the ceiling, seeing the chandelier loosely hanging from the frail, white ceiling.

 I peeked through the door of the basement, stealing a glance from the demolished room underneath. The tv was squished, shattered even, under the weight of massive amounts of bricks. We were very few people who had basements. Not many people here, on 7th Skett Street had many basements. I slowly walked towards the door frame, trying not to make a sound. I took a deep breath, and stepped outside, not looking back, afraid the tears and horrible memories would come back again, haunting me for eternity.

 I promised myself that night, that I would never cry again.