A Man Who Haunts Me My grandmother lives in the country near a large pond with brown, murky water and a small property crowded with trees. I dread visiting my grandma’s house because I usually have to go into the den where memories of my grandfather make me feel depressed. When I walk in to my grandma’s house, I am forced to pass through the den where my grandfather spent most of his time, and unpleasant memories begin swirling in my head. This small, dark room is stuffed with a worn out, brown sofa and a brown, fake-leather loveseat, but all I see is the old, lumpy chair that was my grandfather’s. Even though it has been re-covered in an itchy, tweed fabric, his chair stills emits a musty odor. I never dared to sit in the old man’s chair because he used it like a throne to rule the lives of everyone in the house. The few worn books on the shelf remind me of his raspy voice reading aloud as I sat “listening” in a state of total boredom.
Now when I sit musty ugly chair, I look on the mantle and I see an old Air Force picture of my grandpa and three member of his gangs. They were dressed in a colorless flight clothes, they stood up close to an old airplane. It is next to one of his pictures when he was young. This picture reminded me of his bad behavior. His gray hair is thin and he had some spots on his face because of the time he worked outdoors. His blue eyes reflected trouble in his life for a while. But his malice smile always flowered on his face. The right side of his