Misterious story 150 words

I dont know how to end it but heres whatever this is

Explanation:

    I looked back at the old, abandoned house that stood there gloomily. A home once alive and cheerful now, forgotten, surrounded with an air of melancholy. Cobwebs littered the inside, with the wooden roof and walls falling in. Sunlight no longer danced through the windows and, the sounds of laughter were no longer there. All that was left was the remains of a long since dead house. The lights stared downwards miserably at a table that would never serve anyone ever again, with chairs that had not been warm in many years. Dust blew past the dark hallways, a sad reminder that this house would never be whole again.

    The house was not always this way. I can faintly remember all my visits to this once beautiful home. Every holiday, I was brought to this house, my grandparent's house. Though I lived in the city, the experience of living in a rural area was different yet so much fun. The bright sunshine, the gentle wind, and the quietness had all come to be things that I loved. After the first visit, I was always ecstatic to visit what had now come to be my second home.

    I remember being so eager to help out, trying to help in any way I could, for instance, attempting to paint the house with grandpa, handing him the right bolts and nails to fix the fence, or collecting the eggs from the hens with grandma. I had always messed up everything I tried to do, but my grandparents had kindly taught me to do it properly. The house that my grandparents once lived in had so many good memories of my fun and carefree childhood that I knew that I would have to come back.

    After waiting patiently for ten years, I had gone to the address that I used to go to every year. At first, I thought I had gone to the wrong house, and yet, after going back and forth, I had come to the horrible realization that the destroyed, abandoned house I was looking at was the right house. I could not believe my eyes as I mentally recounted how the now ruined house used to be when I was but a young child.

c. in the address bar

b. brooks wrote about the same type of neighborhood in which she grew up.