The Good Days
A lonesome house stood in the middle of an abandoned street. Not overly bright, but just normal. As the bell signaling 9am chimed, a figure slowly arose from the shadows of the house. Walking up to it, the elderly man knocked gingerly. Hearing no reply, he opened the door and walked in. Something bad had definitely happened here.
Walking around the house, the elderly man was aghast at what he saw. Bombed down stairs, broken cabinets and floorboards. But what surprised him the most was a small table, filled with pictures still remaining that were surprisingly un cracked.
The man picked up the first picture. In it, were 5 young adults. Five young happy adults. He sighed again. It had been so long since he experienced happiness. These people, in fine attire might I add, were clutching a trophy of sorts, with pink confetti sprawled all over them and their surroundings. The picture in its mahogany frame was set down as the old man moved on to the next room.
Waking cautiously along the splintered floorboards, he stopped at what appeared to be a kennel of a small animal, maybe a cat or a dog. While half destroyed, he could just make out the word '-Hoying' in bright green, yet faded writing. The kennel was once a bright rainbow of luminescence, but now was simply just another cloudy, miserable day.
It was so sad to see this world. A war that had destroyed all of humanity's hope and peace. And how it started, nobody knows. Maybe because there was no one left to say. Apart from the old man. He looked back at the picture. And sighed heavily, wheezing into a deep cough.
Avi Kaplan exited the former Grassi-Hoying residence, locking the door tightly. He sighed once more as he thought of the picture on the table, and all the amazing memories he had had being one of the 5 in the picture. Small but fragile tears leaked down his face at the pain of the past. The bass walked away painfully, with one thought in his mind about the glorious picture:
Those were the good days.
