On Memories

First there was a house. It was a house too big for three: the father, the girl, and the dog.¬†Almost everything was made of wood and every furniture was covered by white laces. It boasted no luxury but a front and backyard, three bedrooms, a dining room, a living room, a garage full of shoe-making tools, spider webs, and an empty big fish pond where they bathed their dog every Sunday morning. In the garden there were trees, bee-hives, butterflies, and each morning the leaves and grass was shimmering with fresh dew.¬†Then one day there was excessive amount of water coming through everywhere. It mounted up to knee-high, and the little brown dog was put on the cupboard and it didn’t stop barking nor its tail stopped waving. In the middle of such, the little girl had no fear of anything. She couldn’t remember what her father looked like that day, but the next day they had a new yellowish brown mark on the walls. After the walls were repainted everything was back to normal and the odor of the rotten wood slowly disappeared.

Second there was a storm. Fingers snapped and the house no longer stood there. The whole construction was sadly gone, and it was taking all the trees, the beehives, the butterflies, and the dog away for they belonged altogether. There was only a piece of queer looking object lying on what was once the living room. It was as small as a marble, raw, shapeless, and colorless. The girl took it and put it in her side pocket for it looked harmless and interesting, nothing like the mysterious beehives or the dandy butterflies that she never got to catch. “It must be a part of the house I’d never seen before”, she told herself. The thing grew bigger and split itself til one day it had to be kept in a sealed jar.That night when the red crescent moon hung low, it began to take shapes and show some colors. It was the shapes and colors of a garden, a tree, spider webs, a beehive, butterflies, knee-high water mark, a little brown dog, shoe-making tools, and even her father’s face yet they all had no sounds. Sometimes the spider webs grew on trees and the grass smelled like rotten wood. At some evenings, the dog took shape of rippling water and the knee-high water drowned the house. On some weirder days, she saw her father hiding in the beehive, the bees swarmed the garage while the dog shimmered with dew. At first the girl was amused but then she was dreaded by the distorted figures. She had wished to have never carried the thing in her pocket but it was all too late and the jar, then the bigger jar, then the far bigger jar shattered and the size of its growth never approached a limit.


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