A short story written from the point of view of a sad, elderly woman.
I've escaped. It took months of planning but I've succeeded in getting away from them. My son and his horrible wife will be furious. They worked so hard to get me put away in the Twilight Nursing Home.
The taxi dropped me off at the front gate and I just stood and stared at the old house - the house we moved into we were first married sixty years ago. The gate dragged as I struggled to open it: one of the hinges had fallen off. The garden was an over-grown mess - so many years of loving care ruined by neglect. There was one bright spot though. My beautiful roses were blooming in abundance in a colorful welcome-home display.
I tore the "For Sale" sign off the post and crushed it under my feet. I'm not leaving again. I'm staying in my own home surrounded by all my familiar treasures.
I took the key out of my bag and stepped into the hall, expecting that everything would be as it was when I was forced to leave it. It was not to be. As I walked though the house, my heart was as cold and empty as the echoing rooms. Everything was gone - old things, valuable things, cheap things, useful things, cherished things, the stuff of memories, all of priceless irreplaceable value to me.
Of course it wasn't long before they arrived with the police to take me back to the nursing home. I submitted quietly because I was already planning my next break-out and I would make sure that this time I would make life very difficult for my scheming family.