The lamp shade was stained and brittle from hot bulbs and age. Wallpaper faded and stained, evidenced by bright squares, ghost of past hangings. The ornate oak moldings though dusty, stood proudly against the ravages of time. The windows drooped , thickening at the bottom from their long stand. As the wind moaned in its passages through the cracks. I stood, surveying the bones of this old house, imagining the lives that had passed within it’s once sturdy, welcoming walls. The births . The deaths. The old house, whose fate was in my hands, seemed to become frozen in time, as if anticipating my decision.
Oh how I love old houses and do not like abandoned buildings left decaying. Our first home was a house built in 1910 whose roof leaked horribly. Even though we only lived there a few years we saved that old house by putting on a new roof.
David this piece made me think about that old house again. Thanks for writing and sharing it.
I call my visual art doodles. This is a literary doodle 🙂