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Stepping back in time

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The paths are still familiar even though I was only 11 when I left this place. The wind blows. The brown leaves on the ground lift and I pull my coat tighter around me. I pass the tree which I used to climb when I was younger. Even though the branches are bare I can picture it in all its green splendor vividly in my head. The wind whips my hair into my face. I push it away and see a face hurrying in the opposite direction but its not one I recognize. As I turn the corner I see a group of teenagers hanging around by the now chipped bottle green bridge but none of them are the familiar faces I'm used to. They are strangers to me. I decide to go under the bridge to get shelter from the wind and the people. For a reason that I don't know, I feel scared of the gang of faces with no names. The lights are dim and flickering while some bulbs are smashed. The whole effect is quite eerie. There's so much graffiti everywhere but I can't resist reading about how Tom loves Louise and who was here in whatever year. As I emerge out of the steps at the other end I have to tread carefully to avoid treading on the copious amounts of chewing gum. ...read more.


I vaguely recognise him but now I know it's been too long for me to be able to recognise anyone. He looks into my eyes and for a second something resembling a smile comes onto his face. " Hey. Things have changed around here since you left" I'm shocked that he recognises me that I remain silent. However hard I search I just can't put a name to his face. "That was Fred. Do you remember him?" He asks me sadly. All I can think about was how he remembered me so I ask him, almost afraid of the response, " How do you remember me?" He laughs softly. "How could I forget? Peoples eyes never change. You look so similar yet completely different." I nod feeling the same about him. Then I realise who he is and who the man in the car was. I must have shown it in my eyes for then he said, "He drove all of us crazy. You know how it was. It happened a few years ago. Mum died. He drove her to it and he received so much life insurance and used the money to get that thing built. Not a penny went to me or Vanessa but on his new son with his new wife. Now he's trying to drive out everyone who opposes him and that awful house." ...read more.


I walk nearer and nearly tread on broken bits of glass. In the middle, in miniscule writing, is a notice informing that the shop will not be opening again after repeated thefts and attacks on the owners. I move on, no longer surprised by anything here. I arrive at my old house. I stare at my old house and reflect on my times there. The gold number 5 on the door has loosened itself from one of its screws and is just hanging there like an aimless wiggle and is covered in brown rust. The front garden is no longer a tidy patch of green grass but an incredibly bad half attempt at flower beds. It is just a lump of messy soil with a few pathetic buds attempting in vain to escape from the mass of soil and crawling worms. I can see the window of my old bedroom but I can't see past the wooden blinds now hanging there. I strain my eyes and try to see past the heavy navy blue curtains but the living room is protected by the cover of the thick material. Suddenly the door opens and a man comes out. He stares back. Now I realise that I am the stranger here. 1 Giovanna Sinisgalli ...read more.

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