It stood.
With it's shaky broken stance it held its ground as firmly as it could.
And, yet... It stood.
The years haven't been kind to it, nor has the weather. The uncaring look upon it is quite prominent with the permanent decay of the exterior. It looks as if though it's existence has been meaningless for decades. So lonely it looked, so in pain - if it had a mouth and a voice, it would talk about the neglect, withholding all the suffering and all the memories. If only it could talk our talk but it just stood with a withered expression.
A dwindling pile of woods bricks that the house represents.
The house isn't a big one, but not too small either. The tilted roof, the unkempt pathway that leads to the house, the porch, the front yard and the backyard forest gives the impression of a homely feeling. Yes, the house and the home has separate meanings, don't they! Of course they do. What makes a house a home is it's residents. The residents certainly makes this non-living thing appear to be breathing, as if there's a heart inside pumping. But from a home it has now turned into a house - an old, abandoned house that no one seems to mind about anymore. I wondered how long people had lived here, how many of them lived here, how their lives were but I came up with zero answers, as even though there were signs of people staying here, the evidence has been so scattered to even come to a conclusion to any of the questions.
The house is uninhabited - not quite though, if you count the population of rodents, insects and other four legged living beings, then I guess it's completely deserted, only somewhat. Then again, homo sapiens mostly care about the population of their species. Let's just say, for the sake of argument, the house is a desolate one. It's empty, barren, abandoned, whatever the synonyms you'd like to use for not inhabited, it is that. Even from outside, it looks as if it will make an appearance in one of the horror TV shows or films sooner than later. Even the staircase to the front porch is brittle to the point that one step may cause a fracture or worse, a mid scale accident; even debris is falling off of the ceiling. The scuff and claw marks on the floor, broken bulb holders, the dirt and the dust, the ripped to shreds red couch, the giant cobwebs around the house, the air of foreboding in the atmosphere, all a tell tale sign of something audacious lurks around it's corners. Even in daylights, it couldn't be rid off of the dark shadows that loomed atop.
Something sinister had happened here.
A home doesn't turn into a house overnight, nor gets left behind for no reason. Perhaps, the abandonment weighed on the home, so much so that it lost it's feelings and now turned decayed. A corpse, is that what it's trying to pose as? Somehow, the idea seems believable but wonder how much of it's true.
An abandoned house in all it's charms.
