Super Short Story: Homeless and Dreaming

Lifting myself up I crawl through the window, crunching over the jagged glass edges. It had changed. My house was not my house anymore. This used to be where I shared my memories and my happiness. Now it is an abandoned building in the shadow of a once lively family of two. Leaves are scattered everywhere and everything seems to be in despair. The only piece of furniture left is the brown woollen couch cushions which lay squarely in the centre of the room. I walk towards it; stopping when I reach a wall pinned with Polaroid images. I run my hand over each one of them. "Mum's birthday in hospital" freezes me in place.

I move onto the next pictures; my face in them forcing a smile and a laugh. No need to worry my friends. This was my problem that I had to deal with. I pull the last photo off the wall and walk again towards the cushions. The scattered leaves create a bed for me and I lie in them my head resting comfortably on the cushions. The room lights up, the fireplace glows onto my face and the leaves all disappear. It is warm now, with all the furniture fulfilling the room with comfort and cosiness. I roll onto my side now facing the glowing ember on the soft and sunken couch. I bring the photo to my face and embrace it in the moment. My dirty fingers are guided onto the image; wishing it was not real. And I fall. I tumble down from my haven, falling back onto the pile of leaves, into the room that’s burning with the essence of emptiness. The cold gale strikes through the house and my memory is lost. I lift the image to my face once more and begin to cry. A life was lost that need not have been lost. My mum was never going to come back. It had taken her soul and body with it ripping both of our lives to shreds. I turn the picture over and read the squiggles on the back through my now glossy eyes. “Sometimes, we wish that everything can work out for us. Life dishes us many challenges and many we don't like. My dear, I’m sorry I won’t be able to guide you through your journey but remember that you are not alone. The world is a community. You just have to find the right people to share life with. My chapter has come to an end but yours is just about to start. Give it your all. Love, m.." the note stops - just as her battle did that day. I pull out the matches and strike one; its blaze fizzing in the air. I bring it to the image and set it alight. It sparkles into dust - the debris sprinkling onto the ground. No more will I be homeless and dreaming. It's time for me to make my promise a reality. 

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