Hollow

By Lindsey Little

I walked through my hometown of Hollow. I couldn’t believe this was where my mother and father had raised me. Hollow had grown up so much since I moved out. It almost seemed dead. I walked down the road of my home. It was such a nice home. My mother and father were supposed to be living there. When I received their letter, it was addressed to my old house.

I stood in front of the old willow tree I climbed numerous times as a child. It used to be so lively. It was now withered. Its long strands of leaves had disappeared. Its limbs once smooth and stiff were now black, flakey almost as if it had survived a fire. I touched its trunk. Its bark crumbled off in my hands in ashes. I grabbed onto the closest limb and climbed up. I sat on a branch and looked out to the empty streets.

That was when my eyes caught on my old home. I jumped down from the tree and approached where my house used to be. I wiped my eyes. Were they deceiving me?

My old home had been devoured by flames. All that remained of my old home were ashes. Tears built up in my eyes. I preyed my family had escaped although I doubted it. I walked into what used to be the living room. It was now ashes. The only thing that remained untouched was a photo. A photo in a wooden frame with my mother, my father and I sat on a bridge was untouched by the fire that had destroyed everything else.

How could a blazing fire destroy everything but the picture? Tears streamed down my face. With every step, ashes rose to meet my face. I decided to put the picture with frame and all in the pocket of my jacket. The picture must have been spared because the gods had shed an ounce on me. This picture, not the best must have possessed some sort of magic enclosed behind the glass.

I brushed away ashes in search of something more. I found nothing. I crouched over the ground, sweeping away ashes with the backside of my hand. I found nothing. Everything had perished in the great blaze.

“What did this?” I said to myself. My head grew heavy and I became nauseous off the odor of charred flesh and burnt memories. I fainted in the ash.