A child's secret hiding place

Just beside our own house, there is this half built house. If one sees it from the front, one would hardly notice; thick bushes and tall trees were growing where the garden ought to be. It was hardly built at all, it had no roof and nothing much except the ash brick walls stained with misuse and sadness. On the outside, it was pretty much the case on all sides. The entrance, entrance as in the door, was blocked by thick over growth. If one cared to take a closer look, one would notice an interesting hole that would allow a child with ease. This was my entrance to this house. The windows, the overgrowth on them were too thick.

Inside it was just silence-peace and silence. Although a roof had been barely built, on felt that one is completely sealed from the outside world, from problems in that world. Here there was just grass and a few bushes in just the right places and there was this wall, half built again, where one could sit with ease, and where even a six-year-old child could sleep on. Although there was no cushion, it seemed so comfortable. Walking into the area where the kitchen ought to be, one would meet a deep hole in the ground, and this hole, it was like a entirely private room in the planet of another universe. Entry and return was as easy as ABC, again if one cared to look. No one was going to bother you, no one is even going to suspect that you are there. It was the perfect spot, it was the sugar for the lemonade when life throws lemons right at you and you just want to make lemonade.

There was abundant space, abundant walls to throw glass bottles filled with water and even enough space for a game of marbles with seven players which was the favorite past time of us.