Cracked, grimy windows surround the perimeter of the room. Sunlight struggled to pierce through the layers of dirt, moss, and dust covering them. The walls that the window were placed on were old and bowed inwards like they were shying away from the morning sun. The floors were rotted and moldy, so old that it would seem one line feather could make the house collapse. On some of the spaces on the wall where a window did not reside, there were paintings. Old, dusty paintings that were water damaged beyond comprehension. Many years the old house stood on this land, untouched and slowly falling apart.
YOU ARE READING
The house
Short StoryJust a short story that I came up with off the top of my head.
