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Oct. 26, 2008 The walls were long and everything was old. On the windowsills were plants in clay containers that nobody really watered. The plants must have been resilient. The light that shone through the windows was as if an idea of light and not really light. This was because the windows were dirty. Outside the pitter-patter of rain. The old shed. Aluminum. Nobody went in. Beyond that, there was an overgrown yard that contained noxious plants. It looked from far away like an enchanted garden, as the sun shone down and various shadows cast their selves. Could there be a snake there, by the overgrown raspberry bushes. And what was the reflection in the window? A person walking past. Something to do with the sun and a reflection. A lost spectre. The iron fences, the sewers, the birds looking around like they do, perched above. In the winter the snow gently carpeted the streets, the yards, the rooftops. At those times, in the middle of the night, you could walk outside and see tracks on the ground. The streetlights lit up the snow still falling. If there was a wind, it fell with direction. If there was no wind, it fell with beautiful ambiguity. ------------ About the Author: For more of Brian's short stories, visit his website: http://www.freewebs.com/storyandstory/. Email Brian Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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