Through Annie's eyes
a haunting memory
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
They were walking along a forest path. It was sticky and hot and Annie’s skin was itchy from a heat rash that was beginning to develop on her legs and face. She turned her head and looked through the darkness of the thick broad-leaved trees and out at the surrounding hay fields, rippling in golden sunlight.
Her asthmatic chest was tight and her breath was short, but she was used to her wheezing and took it as par for the course if she played outside in the summer.
It wasn’t long before they reached the special house lying on it’s side at the edge of the wood. Alice explained that many years ago it had subsided and been abandoned and that no one in the village knew why. Since then, layers of earth had slowly piled up about its walls and now it lay smothered by vines and moss. Time had joined the walls, the roof, the chimney and the glass with the soil and the flowers that it once stood separate from.
Don’t try to picture the house dear reader, imagine instead the striped stockinged legs of the wicked witch of the east poking out from underneath it – because that’s how Annie saw it. She looked upon a house that had fallen from the sky and impounded into the earth with such force as to drive it, lopsided, deep into the ground. Not for one moment did it occur to the little girls imagination that someone could have left this house to rot into the earth.
The two girls clambered over mounds of earth and fallen leaves until they found an open window which was level with the ground. “This way,” said Alison, as Annie stumbled past the weeds and nettles that grew thick and stinging all around.
Alison was through the window first, and from inside she called to Annie to be careful.
“There’s a drop on the other side,” Alison warned “we’re in the kitchen”. Annie’s leg felt for a surface and found it. Her foot rested on the edge of a sink still full of dishes. She brought her arm in and grabbed for Alison’s shoulder to steady her as she brought her other leg through, all scratched and muddy from resting on the ground outside. Then, perching on the sink, she readied herself to hop onto the floor.
It smelled funny in the house, and it was cold after the heat of the summer day outside. Blue bottles lay dead on a kitchen table still laid out with yellowing porcelain plates.
There was no place to sit and play and everything was too pungent and mouldy to touch. Annie wandered through he house following Alisons lead, looking for a place where they could settle and play make believe. But there was nothing to make-believe here. It was damp and cold and dark, and she felt unusual. Annie was confused, because despite all of this, she liked it here.
Years later, she would watch films and read books and listen to music that described such places. Bombed out streets, underground sewers, ghost towns – and she would remember this place and the way she felt.
Understanding it years later, she began to realise what the ruined house had meant to her. It remained forever as an image which sparked in Annie’s mind attractions that would last forever.
Disused elevators with doors jarred open, stainless steel and stinking of piss. Alleyways and posters peeling off the walls. Flickering neon lights. Rain lashed promenades and ice-cream stalls boarded up in the winter. Puddles in the pavement. A deserted band stand in the grey light of a forgotten park. The remnants of a life that the young didn’t know and the old weren’t part of anymore. A moment in time, left in the past with its echo decaying for all to see.
The disused dancehalls that still stood, chipped plates in dusty cupboards, tiled floors of the underground, fur coats in second hand shops. All the physical reminders of a time which has no space to exist in anymore. Why did she see these things the way that she did? What was it that made these turn into scenes of erotica and bitter romance in Annie’s eyes?
Her asthmatic chest was tight and her breath was short, but she was used to her wheezing and took it as par for the course if she played outside in the summer.
It wasn’t long before they reached the special house lying on it’s side at the edge of the wood. Alice explained that many years ago it had subsided and been abandoned and that no one in the village knew why. Since then, layers of earth had slowly piled up about its walls and now it lay smothered by vines and moss. Time had joined the walls, the roof, the chimney and the glass with the soil and the flowers that it once stood separate from.
Don’t try to picture the house dear reader, imagine instead the striped stockinged legs of the wicked witch of the east poking out from underneath it – because that’s how Annie saw it. She looked upon a house that had fallen from the sky and impounded into the earth with such force as to drive it, lopsided, deep into the ground. Not for one moment did it occur to the little girls imagination that someone could have left this house to rot into the earth.
The two girls clambered over mounds of earth and fallen leaves until they found an open window which was level with the ground. “This way,” said Alison, as Annie stumbled past the weeds and nettles that grew thick and stinging all around.
Alison was through the window first, and from inside she called to Annie to be careful.
“There’s a drop on the other side,” Alison warned “we’re in the kitchen”. Annie’s leg felt for a surface and found it. Her foot rested on the edge of a sink still full of dishes. She brought her arm in and grabbed for Alison’s shoulder to steady her as she brought her other leg through, all scratched and muddy from resting on the ground outside. Then, perching on the sink, she readied herself to hop onto the floor.
It smelled funny in the house, and it was cold after the heat of the summer day outside. Blue bottles lay dead on a kitchen table still laid out with yellowing porcelain plates.
There was no place to sit and play and everything was too pungent and mouldy to touch. Annie wandered through he house following Alisons lead, looking for a place where they could settle and play make believe. But there was nothing to make-believe here. It was damp and cold and dark, and she felt unusual. Annie was confused, because despite all of this, she liked it here.
Years later, she would watch films and read books and listen to music that described such places. Bombed out streets, underground sewers, ghost towns – and she would remember this place and the way she felt.
Understanding it years later, she began to realise what the ruined house had meant to her. It remained forever as an image which sparked in Annie’s mind attractions that would last forever.
Disused elevators with doors jarred open, stainless steel and stinking of piss. Alleyways and posters peeling off the walls. Flickering neon lights. Rain lashed promenades and ice-cream stalls boarded up in the winter. Puddles in the pavement. A deserted band stand in the grey light of a forgotten park. The remnants of a life that the young didn’t know and the old weren’t part of anymore. A moment in time, left in the past with its echo decaying for all to see.
The disused dancehalls that still stood, chipped plates in dusty cupboards, tiled floors of the underground, fur coats in second hand shops. All the physical reminders of a time which has no space to exist in anymore. Why did she see these things the way that she did? What was it that made these turn into scenes of erotica and bitter romance in Annie’s eyes?