Desolation

A writing exercise

In the desolate land in front of me, pieces of decaying beauty lay strewn about beneath my feet, and on for what seems like endless steps away from what used to be. I smell the dusty wood of a broken home as I feel it's every crack and crevice with curious toes. The beauty of this relic almost tangible, taking all the wasted spaces in my mind as I envision what could have been. Touching imaginary curtains; envisioning a child of no more than three clinging to her mother's skirt, begging for an apple from the kitchen counter bathing in morning light. Falling to pieces in a matter of minutes with last kisses, decaying alone, bit by bit, like a long-forgotten dream. Southern belle accents crumbling with the whitewashed walls that knew it all, as windows of pretty faces shatter. An isolated incident, no one with any recollection of what may have been.

Author's Note

We had to write American Gothic about a decaying, isolated Southern mansion.

Reviews

[Crowley]

An ethereal feel that captures the prompt with precision and feeling. Entropy and its unyielding surety on the physical, mental, spiritual. Great southern feel and great portrayal of decay. Loved it.

[An owl on the moon]

You give this place such a history and weave in the sadness of the present... stripping away the glory... All the senses are revived and dancing amidst the feel of yesterday... and the shadowed grey of today. Brilliant.