I remember the house it was made of wood. It
looked like a big round-topped dilapidated old barn. It looked as if it was about to fall down. The windows were boarded up mostly. Only a skylight provided light from outside. There was a rumor that a hermit lived there.
As I peeked through a loose board, I could see the inside was one big room. The room was gloomy in appearance. It had a musty smell, like old cigars. An old bed fit in one corner. It had no sink but had a pump, over a basin, which acted as the kitchen and bathroom washbasin. This sat upon a wood cabinet that looked as if it was a hundred years old.
In the middle of the room were an old rocking chair and a black potbelly stove. On the stove was a pan of water. There was miscellaneous furniture scattered around the room. With a small table surround by orange creates.
This was the age before television. A shabby console radio sat near the crack I was looking through. There was silence except for the creaking of the rocker on a loose floorboard.
In it an old man was rocking back and forth, and reading a book. At first he appeared not to know I was watching. All of a sudden he looked right at me, a scrawny 7 year old kid in overalls. He shook his cane and yelled. I heard him laugh as I ran away frightened with heart pounding. Yet I would be drawn back to that place again and again out of curiosity.
The old man never did show me friendship but
remained threatening. One day I went back and looked
for the old man but he was not there. I never saw him again.
On cold winter nights I could see a light shining from the
skylight, but when I ran to look no one was there….
