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TITLE: The Little House
By Rebekah Bentley
02/12/05
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This story doesn't have a moral or hidden analogy. It's simply a story. I'd love to hear your comments! :)
Nestled between the orchard and the forest sits a little white house. Within its walls ring years of memories, songs, and stories.

Almost a hundred years ago, the little white house began its life as the first home for Jim and his new bride.

The little house kept them warm through many dreary winters, and its windows filled the rooms with sunlight in the spring.

When Jim and Susan had their first child, the little house was filled with joy.

Then one day Jim got a new job and he took Susan and little Robert to Chicago. The leaves turned golden and the last apples fell...and the little house stood empty.

Soon another couple moved into the little house, but they were no longer young. Sam took good care of his wife but, before spring came again, Mabel died, and the little house was filled with grief.

It wasn't long before Sam packed his things and went to live with his daughter. The apple trees blossomed and the forest turned green...and the little house stood empty.

For two years the little house stood alone, nestled between the orchard and the forest. Then one day, as spring began to burst forth upon the land, a family moved in.

Nicholas and Meg and their five children were a happy family, and the little house was filled with laughter.

For many years the little house resounded with the sound of children's voices. Then twins were born into the family and the little house was no longer large enough. Sadly, they packed their things and moved away.

The first frost covered the ground and the branches on the trees grew bare...and the little house stood empty.

Several years passed until someone again moved in. Peter was an artist, and the little house was filled with beauty.

Peter's canvases came alive with vivid paintings of the orchard and simple sketches of the forest, and he filled the rooms of the little house with drawings of familiar places. Sometimes other people came to the little house to watch Peter work or to buy his paintings.

Peter loved the little house and he lived there until he grew too old to live alone. Then the dreaded day came and he walked through the rooms of his beloved little house, trying to memorize every crack in the wall, every creak of the boards beneath his feet. Then, with tears in his eyes, he waved goodbye to the little house and left her forever.

The rains fell hard and the thunder crashed angrily...and the little house stood empty.

Soon a young widow and her daughter moved into the little house. They were poor and grieving, but the little house was filled with love.

The little girl grew up and married the doctor's son, outside in the orchard in the spring. She and her husband moved away and took her mother to live with them.

So passed the spring, then summer and fall, and into winter, and still the little house stood empty.

The vines have grown over the house and the orchard is in need of a pruning, but within the walls of the little house ring years of memories, songs, and stories.

Nestled between the orchard and the forest sits a little white house. It stands empty, waiting for more memories to be made within its walls, more songs to be sung beneath its roof, more stories to be written through many more years.
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