THEME:Oldies Love Story
SONG: My Heart
ARTIST: Paramore
“Let’s go in.” I just couldn’t resist. “We’ll just check it out. No big deal.”
“It’s a haunted house, Alexa. Let’s just go. Besides, someone might see us.” Jasmine said while looking around.
“Jas, please. Those are just rumors.” I said as I turned the knob. “Oh, look. It’s open. The odds are in our favor, Jas.”
I turned on my flashlight. The windows were dusty, the floorboards creaked, there were cobwebs in every corner, and the walls had cracked and peeling paint. We were quiet as we looked around.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said in a whisper.
“U-Upstairs? Where they say the cries are coming from? Lexi, this place is creeping me out!”
“Come on. It will just be fast. We’ll just look around a little and before you know it, we’re out of this house.”
Once we were upstairs, we reached a long hall. “Let’s go there.” I said pointing at a closed door at the end of the hall.
I peered inside. The room was a total mess. It was crammed with dusty furniture, old trunks, and piles of books and papers.
We walked deeper into the jam-packed room. “Ah!” I said, jumping a little as I nearly ran into an old dressmaker’s dummy.
“Scared?” Jas teased.
“I wasn’t scared. I was just — surprised.” I said in which she giggled in return.
“Check out this old chest,” I said. It was a cedar chest with brass handles. “Cool,” I said as I bent to open it.
“It might be locked.” Then, the trunk popped open. “Or not.” Jas finished.
The trunk was filled with a pile of old clothes. As in really old. They’re like antique.
“Wow,” Jas breathed out as she reached in the trunk and pulled out an old leather-bound book.
She opened the little clasp. “It’s not locked.”
We closed the lid of the trunk as we sat on top of it. Jas opened the book to its first page.
“’When time runs out and your heart needs to say so much more
But the heart that should hear it is gone now forever
And you are left with a raw nagging sore.
When your soul is then drained of its deepest regret
Then hold your true paper to the candle’s clear flame
That thought-laden smoke might reach to that heart
And ashes, a symbol of love, yet remain
When Time Runs Out, a poem written by Alice Wyndham’” Jas read.
What is love? Love is not an emotion, they say. Rather, it is a choice.
I was in an arranged marriage with the son of my father’s business partner. At the age of seventeen, I was married.
“She was married at the age of seventeen? That’s just a year older than us!” I exclaimed.
“That was normal before. You were considered an old maid if you’re not yet married at the age of twenty.”
