Write poem or prose inspired by a child leaving a house. I can't write poetry ;)
My House
‘This is my house’ he
thought to himself. ‘It’s old and creaky and full of memories. Whatever anyone
says it is most definitely mine. What’s more this room is my room. Not Paul’s,
or Sandra’s, or Jean’s, but mine.’
He sat down on the
wooden floorboards cross legged and said aloud:
“So here we are again.
Today is the day when I have to make all this clear once again. It does get a
little tiresome going through this so often.”
Sometimes they caught
on quite quickly. Rose did. It only took her two nights before she decided to
sleep on the landing instead.
June had been
trickier. Her nanny assured her that it was all in her imagination and she held
on for at least a month. She moved into the smaller bedroom in the end. She
hardly came in the room after that. Which was how it should be of course.
So what now he
wondered. Another family he presumed. Or maybe a couple that wanted to turn it
into a study. That wouldn’t be so bad he supposed. Although it might be a bit
dull.
Clarence moved
silently around the room wondering what mischief could be done.
A car pulled into the
gravel driveway and he looked out of the window to see a smart black car
followed by a removal lorry. The car came to a stop and the doors opened. Out
climbed four boys aged between four and twelve.
This was going to be
interesting. Boys were often tougher nuts to crack. And four of them could be a
challenge.
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