《 # WritcoStoryChallenge 》

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"The old house stood dilapidated and full of memories."
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The old house stood dilapidated and full of memories-
Our memories.
And in the last few days in which the house stood on the edge,
Teetering between wanted and remembered,
I sat out back.
Staring at the eroding waves taking out the structure of the cliff’s edge, my skin crawled at each creak the old wood groaned.

It made me think of the few weeks after we called this house a haven.
It made me think of you sitting on the deep hardwood floor,
While I was at the open window, yellowed curtains fluttering in the humid wind.
It made me think of the beautiful shades of blue that expanded out in all directions-
Sea and sky mixing into a hazy blur as clouds punctuated the sky

The way you saw my soul in the sunlight
The way I saw the depths of your emotions in the moonlight
Tied together by dingy wallpaper, brass handles, and the need for immunity
Cutting the ties we had to our family trees so the fruit they bared didn’t become poison.
And when the seeds fell, you grew with a vigor and vibrance that was unmatched.

But some of the branches became dry.
And the drought seemed to reach your leaves
And the thorny vines got a hold of you,
Pulling you back down to the dirt

Back at square one again.

I saw the house fall a few days after that.
It was a slow decent at first, the walls cracking, crumbing into the ocean below
But the house seemed to let out one more pained groan as it split it's shell,
Half of it collapsing into the waves.

The other half went soon after, missing it's Grasp.
All that was left was that same expanse of blue, soiled by the low grays of November-
And a twisted withered tree, which sat against where the back wall used to be.
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© Rynne