Member-only story
Lost in time
A short story that is key
They used to visit every week, especially when their grandparents were getting old, but the 90 minute trip to the forgotten village was no longer their top priority.
Their grandparents had passed and the house stood in time. A mustier version of their smell still lingering, their ill fitting clothes still hanging in the wardrobe, bottles of aromatic and strong brandy, who knows how old, still taking their place in the aged kitchen cupboards.
The light brown wooden furniture and delicate cladding revealing the last time it was decorated, way back when the village was a thriving place. The withering framed newspaper cuttings that boasted their achievements, displaying a very clear date from way back when.
One of the family still visits often, to sit and look out, to reminisce about simpler times, to escape the sounds of the horn and smells of the city landfill. But even he’s grown weary, the energy he put in was never matched by anyone else, nor in his household or the neighbours. Where energy usually grew and culminated in harvest and celebration, now it faded away like the embers in the last fire.
