Part 1
On a warm summer day, a young, casually dressed man approached a yellow house in a suburban area. He looked at it with a glazed-over expression. It was a sight he had seen so many times its image became redundant in his memories.
Clutched in his fist were a set of keys.
The young man, Samuel, was medium build with round glasses. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He inhaled—the cherry lit bright orange—then exhaled. The smoke swirled around as it rose and vanished into the clear blue skies.
He put out his cigarette on the heel of his shoe and made his way to the front door. Fumbling with the keys, he found the one he was looking for and unlocked the house. Upon opening it he was blasted with dust. It was like a cannon had shot him in the face without any ammunition.
“It hasn’t been that long—cough, cough—and it is already this dusty?” He covered his mouth with his hand, avoiding any more inhalation of the volatile particles.
This mustard-yellow house was his childhood home that resided in the small middle-of-nowhere town, Coyote Bluffs. Samuel’s mother and father left it for him when they moved away to somewhere more exciting.
“A couple of months and this place became a disaster zone. Ground zero of the dust wars.” Sam chuckled to himself as he stroked a nearby coat hanger with his finger, which had now become so covered with dust he could not discern his fingerprint.
Samuel was a freelance photographer and could work with a lot of his clients online. His parents were reluctant to just sell the house to a stranger, so when they offered it to Sam it had been a perfect opportunity. This nothing-of-a-town was ripe for photography. Everything about Coyote Bluffs was rustic, and the town was surrounded by lush wildlife.
“I should probably air out this place first. Nothing seems to have color anymore from the layers of dust. It’s like a black and white picture. I know mom was bad at cleaning but…” He continued mumbling to himself as he walked from room to room opening the blinds and the windows.
He opened the final window of the house to let light bleed into his old bedroom. Many of his old toys were still there. They had been boxed up and condensed with numerous other belongings that were not his own. His old bedroom was now a storage room—the only belonging he had that was not boxed up was his old bed.
Sam began opening boxes to see what he used to be into as a child, just out of pure curiosity. Lots of robots and cars, superhero action figures, and the like. “I was a pretty generic child, huh? I do not remember playing with any of these toys or even picking them out.” He glanced around the room filled with so many boxes. “Maybe I can turn this into a study. If I can clear out all of this rubbish first.”
Sam glanced over at his bedroom window, which faced the back of the house. The house’s backyard was just a hill; actually, it was several hills, and trees as far as the eye can see. This town was a valley town in the sticks, separated from the bustling big cities in the pre-internet days.
Pushing open the sliding window, Samuel stuck his head out, feeling the wind on his face. The fresh air was beyond euphoric. The atmosphere in his hometown was so calm and the air untainted, unlike the city where he lived beforehand.
He felt an unexpected bit of nostalgia when he looked out at the tree-filled bluffs. So many gentle thoughts swam out from the back of his mind. Those thoughts brought out memories alongside them; memories he had buried in the depths of his mind came flowing out all at once.
The memory of the time he got lost in those hills stuck out more than any other.
I wonder if that shrine is still out there? Nature might have destroyed it over these past years, He pondered.
