Nan's House (standard:other, 1702 words)
Author: Lyssie Harris	Added: Apr 08 2004	Views/Reads: 3331/2168	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is an autobiographical story that I wrote when certain events in my life prompted me to think about the events that had gone before. It is mainly concerned with the break up of my parent's and the places I felt safe.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

preoccupied with various preschool activities my mother had enrolled me 
in, and the impending move from a two bed roomed terraced council house 
to a show home in Waldridge. The move was a dream. The house was 
enormous and designed for families with young children. Soon after we 
had settled fully into the routine of a family in its youth, it 
happened. 

My world that seemed until this night perfect and secure, impervious to
destruction, came crashing down on me. The stability that nurtured me 
and the innocence I possessed like any child were taken away from me, 
and shattered into a million pieces that fell about me taking 
everything that I knew and understood crashing to the floor. But those 
shards in my mind existed in reality too, as shattered glass that 
littered the doormat and the staircase. The hallway was cold and grew 
even colder as the vexed voices of my parents bickered back and forth 
across the landing. The light on the staircase shook and swayed 
rhythmically and in time with the sound of drawers opening and wardrobe 
doors clashing shut. I cowered, curious and terrified at the foot of 
the stairs as my mother emerged form my bedroom carrying a suitcase and 
a satchel from whose open flap I saw the sleeve of my nightdress 
dangling. My father shouted obscenities and venomous threats after her, 
and she snapped them right back at him. Her face was red with tears and 
hot blood. I was confused. My father scared me and I didn't want to 
stay with him alone. I believed my mother was going to leave me with 
him and as she thundered towards me I pleaded with her not to go, to 
stay here or at least take me with her. She reached the foot of the 
stairs and in one swift movement slung the satchel around me and 
hoisted my trembling body to her hip. The heavy oaken door swung 
outward allowing the winter air to cool the agitated air inside the 
porch. In a final calamitous exchange of bitter remarks, my mother 
rushed me to a red car, which promptly sped off into the oppressive 
darkness. Nan's voice inquired, “So what happened love? Are you 
alright?” There was no reply. I stared out the window. I felt a 
darkness sweep over me like a sudden shadow. The earth as I knew it was 
gone. Only the darkness was left to engulf me. 

Then, we arrived at Nan's House. 

As the car pulled up noisily in front of the garden wall, eight curious
faces appeared from behind the drawn curtains, tweaking the net drapes 
aside to see who was coming. Warm yellow light spilled out onto the 
garden, casting a golden glow onto the snow and icicles that hung 
magically from the overhang of the outhouse. I could hear the door 
being unbolted from the inside. A second later, the same eight curious 
faces crowded at the doorway, dressed in their pyjamas and draped in 
blankets to protect against the cold. A barrage of excited voices 
called out curious questions, but Nan, with an authoritative but gentle 
tone, silenced them until I and my mother had taken a seat in the newly 
decorated living room. The room smelled new, and the tender pink hues 
soothed my fears slightly. My Nan, granddad and my uncles took my 
mother into the front room. I did not want her to leave me. The fear of 
the events of a half hour ago remained strong inside me. I wanted to go 
with her. I needed to, in case she didn't come back. I cried again. 
This time though, instead of standing, a silent spectator, I was 
pacified by the open arms of the women in our family who had gathered 
at Nan's house that night. They were concerned and worried about my 
mother, but they wanted to make me feel safe too.  They made sure I 
knew that. That was the best thing they could have done for me, because 
at the time, that was the only thing I knew for certain. They said that 
they understood why I was afraid. They answered all my questioned 
truthfully, so that I could understand. They let me know that I wasn't 
the only one who was anxious, they were too. 

Over the next several months, I stayed at Nan's House. With nine other
people and a dog. I was seldom alone but this did not bother me. I was 
still too young to have want of privacy. I was grateful for the company 
too. It reinforced my trust of that place. I had absolutely nothing to 
fear in that house, and the myriad nights I spent there are possibly 
the best of my life. My mother and I spent Christmas there too. 
Although I was the only person living in the house to be legally 
considered a child (with the exception of my Auntie Jane, who was 
thirteen), everyone around me, including my granddad, behaved like they 
were my age. I think they were more excitable than me. We left Nan's 
House shortly after New Year. It was dark when we left, but that didn't 
scare me anymore. The warm and welcoming eyes of Nan's house smiled at 
me as I left, and I smiled back: at the eight friendly faces gathered 
at the doorway. 


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