1. Standing alone, the abandoned abode cowered from the new world.
It was as if it were
from another time. Another place, long gone, where life was much simpler. It hadn’t kept up
with the pace of time, ticking on. It had paid the price for this and been left to rack and ruin.
The natural word around it was beginning to encroach. Claiming its walls with ivy and
wisteria. Nature crept over the house, claiming it for its own. Windows had been taken by
the weather, battered during a storm. The word had been filched by rot and wood worm.
The roof was in the process and being entirely snatched by moss and lichen.
The path leading to the house with shambolic. Pot holes and ruts littered it. No one cared to
maintain it anymore as the farm had lost its purpose. Agriculture gave way to industry, as
did a whole way of life.
2. The grass shimmered and swayed in the evening sunlight, dancing and moving as if it
were alive. As it did this, it realised pollen and seeds, creating a haze above it that looked
like mist.
Birds chirruped and chirped in the trees, calling to one another, discussing the day’s events.
Bustling around the trees from nest to nest, tending to all the day’s labours.
The sky itself seemed to be alive, bright azure and dazzling. The spars clouds danced and
jumbled about, like playful puppies.
It was odd though, all this natural life in a place of human abandonment. The house created
a stark contrast with its surroundings, a blight on a pure and natural space, but as the same
time, it was as if it had always been there. It was both intrusive and slotted in perfectly. All
at once.
3. The breeze ruffled my hair, taking away with it all worries from my previous life. It was as
if I was being born again. I felt the stress lift from my shoulders, liberating me from the
chains of a stressful job, a demanding partner and a hectic lifestyle.
This would be my new home.
I would build it back from this derelict state, coax it back to life, slowly and gradually. Fill it
with love and warmth. It would become like a womb to me. Save and comforting. Home.
I could hear birds in the trees, chatting with one another. I could hear the sheep and cows of
a nearby farm, baaing and lowing. It was a comforting sound.
4. Night was creeping in over the land, taking with it the warmth and light of the day. Inky
blackness began to take over the sky. Without street lights and other buildings, the sky
looked like pure velvet, untainted by orange glow.
With night came animal activity. Day dwelling creatures were crawling to their beds
whereas nocturnal beasts were just waking, readying themselves for their night.
It was as if the world was both dozing and waking. The air felt electric, filled with potential.
Everything was fresh and new, despite being cloaked in darkness, and anything was
possible.
The wind picked up and the house squeaked, creaked, moved on its foundations as if both
settling itself for the night and preparing to endure it.
5. I didn’t know the last time I had visited. I couldn’t remember the outside of the house, I
just remembered the feelings of being within it. The warmth of my mother, the stoic yet
comforting presence of my father. The gabbling geese and the dawdling ducks in the yard.
The livestock in the shed, chewing cud and letting out sounds of contentment.
Never would I have thought that this place, this magical, homely place, could be reduced to
this.
A shell of what it once was. Just a shell. It looked like a carcass of a magnificent beast, its
flesh and muscle torn from it. How could it have fallen so far?
But I could still see the potential and I could still feel the warmth of my mother, the stoic yet
comforting presence of my father.
