@magnificatanimameadominum-

2 years ago

POV: I stand on Grandmother Marybelle’s steps. Poor, deceased, Grandmother Marybelle. I don’t remember her much, we live far away from her and my father and her aren’t on very good terms. The only time I saw her I was really too young to remember. We had inherited Grandmother Marybelle’s old, magnificent house. Even though my Grandmother wasn’t too fond of my mother after she had gone and married Father, she was her only living child so she gave her house to her, and I have come to inspect it and explore it for myself. I picked up my brown calico skirt and walked up the steps and stepped on the porch. I took the keys out of my coat pocket and unlocked the white door.   I stepped in the house and was rather astonished by the magnificence of the house. The air had that feeling that can make you tell it has not been inhabited for at least 2 weeks. I took off my coat and put it away. Everything was still here, the portraits, paintings, furniture, and it all belonged to Father, Mother, and I. It was rather amazing to think about. I was accustomed to rather plain, poorer settings as my family was not very well to do. I roamed around the house, poking my head in the rooms, some empty, most not. After about an hour of exploring, I decided to go outdoors. I stepped outside and breathed in the air. It was humid out, not the pleasantest weather, and the air was rather heavy. I looked before me and saw lots of overgrown weeds, flowers, and scattered trees. Mother told me that the gardens were rather marvelous when she grew up and would tell me with a smile on her face how she and her older brother, God rest his soul, would play and have jolly times there. I continued and walked around. Now, to understand this I must tell you a back story. When I was younger, I was a queer child. Or at least, according to my father’s sisters, Aunt Cecily, Aunt Elizabeth, and Aunt Beatrix. I was quiet, often in a daydream, and would have my little head stuck in a book most of the time. I also had reoccurring dreams, such odd but fanciful little dreams. One of them was such a lovely little dream. It was where I would see a brown wooden gate, open it, and enter into the dreamiest, loveliest garden you ever saw. Roses covering the fences, a small fountain in the middle, A old (still sturdy) tree with a swing on it, a little bench hanging on two ropes. Green, green grass and I would run around and frolic. I had this dream at least seven times, and it still entertained me to muse on nowadays as a young woman. I skipped, walked, stopped to smell the flowers, would examine the gardens, think of how much prettier I could make this place, and as I was walking, I stopped. Right before my eyes, was the exact brown wooden gate I had dreamed about as a child. Must be a coincidence. I thought. Still, curious, I opened the gate. It was a bit stuck and it took me a minute to open it, but when I did, I was astonished. It was the exact same garden. The same roses, the same garden, the same green grass. It was the exact same! A rush of adrenaline ran through my blood. I squealed and ran around, not caring that I was probably considered too old by many to frolic in such manner. After I was exhausted I laid down and was mystified, trying to wrap my mind over this. I was mystified, but content. I knew I never wanted to leave this place. Oh, wait until Mother hears about this! Guess who had to write this twice because I accidentally deleted this 😁✌️ Anyways, I don't write often so bear with me i’m sorry it wasn’t too good! Thank you Mary Wang for helping me figure out how to get this on YouTube- (I wrote in on Google Docs so it wouldn't be deleted again) If anybody has any feedback, criticism, or corrections please let me know I'd love to hear and improve my writing! Thanks for reading!

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