The Wooden Staircase

It feels like yesterday since I was back in that old house. I can remember creaky floors, the way the wind howls at night, the mice that crawl in between the walls, and that giant staircase. It was made of wood, and I always wanted to see what was at the top. I was twelve back then, a good age to be curious for new things. I was always asking questions, in depth ones too, and everyone would try to avoid my curiosity by changing the subject, or by giving me something else to do. I had a lot of interests back then and a big imagination. I didn’t have many toys or any money, but my uncle did. He was rich, and I had to move in with him at a young age.

When I was six, my parents died The government contemplated putting me into an orphanage. I lived in that orphanage for too long. It took a while, but eventually they negotiated a plan with my uncle. Probably my mother or father’s brother. They said that he said that he was willing to take me in once I turned twelve. They also mentioned an aunt, but they said she hadn’t been heard of for a long time. They thought she might have passed away. It was seven more months until I moved in with him. Traveling to the U.K. was pretty difficult considering the fact that I was only still eleven (almost twelve) at the time, and flying from Hawaii. My family had lived there for a while, although I was born in Canada. I got to fly in an airplane which was pretty cool to a young mind, and there were a few stops along the way. Once I finally reached the last airport, I was so happy to be on the ground again. It took me a while to find a sign with my name on it, but it was exciting when I did. The only thing was that it was a woman holding the sign. All this time, the orphanage told me that it was an uncle taking me in. I was kind of excited to be taken care of by an uncle, but an aunt sounds pretty exciting too. Was she the one they thought was dead? I walked up to the lady, and she immediately brightened up.
“Hello little girl! You must be Miss Holly Rose!” she said. I quickly scanned her, and then stubbornly said,
“Well who else would I be?” I gave a smug expression. She didn’t lose her smile,
“Well then, I suppose we should head home.” she took one last glance at me and we left. We stepped into a small, yet large horse-drawn carriage. We arrived at the house (which turned out to be a mansion) sooner than I thought we would, and by now I couldn’t hold my excitement in.
“Here! Here! A home! For me? Oh thank you!” I couldn’t stop.
Until, “Pause!” said the most astonishingly loud voice I’d heard all day. Everyone standing outside stared at a man in a silk tuxedo standing at the top of a very tall staircase.

The man lifted an eyebrow, and then said, “Well, now that you have arrived, you may as well come in!” and after that, he disappeared into the mansion. Everyone got out of the carriage and since I had no belongings, we just headed inside.
“Woah! This place is like a dream!’, I exclaimed. Everyone got settled inside, and I turned to the lady.
“Who is that man in the fancy suit? Is he your husband?” I politely asked her.
“No no no!” she seemed surprised that I asked that. “He’s the master of this household, Your Uncle Roger,” when she said that, my jaw dropped wide.
“So, you aren’t my aunt?”, I said in surprise. She gave me a look of confusion.
“You must be confused sweetheart. That’s your uncle, and I’m just-,” she paused, “his assistant.” We both stared at each other until she glanced down a long hall. She gestured for me to follow her and we walked until we came to a pretty wooden door. “Now go in and get settled. I know it’s not the best room.” she said as she walked back down the hall. I gently took one glance inside the room, I saw a small bed which had worn down rugs on it, the curtains were ripped, the carpet was matted, and the window was smashed. That room would certainly need some fixing up.