Outside, pressing against the overgrown forest, windows of a House once full of laughter and love yearn to let sunshine in. Inside, the stench of spoiled milk and rotten ground beef infiltrates the senses. No one remembered to inform the house to not outlive her welcome.
She stands defiantly among the brush and thistle, a bastion of bygone existence. Tree branches rip open her window screens, and lifeless vines now decorate the House’s crumbling facade.
Vacancy came suddenly. Now, forgotten memories serve to haunt the house of her past caretakers. Alone she stands, already becoming overtaken by the inevitable.
D.V.L. Rhodes 