There is a house, hemmed by hundred-year-old forests. It sits wedged at the crack where the mountain and the trees argue about property lines; each takes a small step here or there, reclaiming what was lost. The crenellated highway cuts through and, playing referee, takes no sides. From the uppermost window you could see traffic zoom by. Only birds know this was once a palace of an impoverished people. Zigzag stairs dash haphazard footpaths—dizzying, transitory indecision leading nowhere. And flower pots wait at the end of the world for owners who are never coming home.
TheDustSeason 
I love the story you tell without really telling it.. just in the description of the house and a few dropped lines we learn about the people who once lived in the house. 🙂
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Thank you. It was a difficult prompt at first. I realized it was the lack of human habitation that was the key, so I wrote my lines around that. I don’t know if what I wrote constitutes a story per se, but it was how the image spoke to me. Abandonment, perhaps the complete absence of a human presence signifying something apocalyptic. I am enjoying the experience trying to minimize my words and expand my meaning at the same time. Thanks for suggesting the photo.
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I think this picture really cried out for your interpretation. Something about it reminded me of the march of progress overrunning an older, hidden past. You captured it well.
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Thank you. I wondered if I was going for the ‘obvious’ interpretation. Of course, now I am wondering what hidden past I have overlooked. This would make a lovely setting for a star-crossed romance.
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Lovely descriptions and an evocative mood. The image of flower pots waiting at the “end of the world for owners who are never coming home” is quite a desolate one.
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I liked the haunting note myself. I try for the apocalyptic whenever possible.
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it reads like a well-written beginning of a novel, full of hope and anticipation for things to come.
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I have to agree with plaridel.
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I really liked the way you have described the setting and the life around it so perfectly. Lovely!
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Thank you. I was aiming for ’empty’ and ‘desolate’. I hadn’t thought about the remaining life of animals and plants as such. It is good of you to notice.
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You captured the emotions of the house just as I felt them.
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Thank you. I hadn’t thought of it as being from the perspective of the house, but I like that. Must remember to pretend that is what I intended all along.
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Dear Kirizar,
First, welcome to Friday Fictioneers. I’ll warn you. Once you start, it’s very hard to stop. 😉
Your piece puts me in mind of a section o Ray Bradbury’s “Martian Chronicles” after the Martians have died out. Stellar description of the crenellated highway taking no sides. Beautifully done.
I look forward to reading more of your well-placed words.
shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence. Here’s hoping I am able to reproduce the same quality next time. (And, I am all for addictions that improve my writing. I need this type of activity to keep me invested in the process.)
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You paint a vivid image from the picture. What a pity nobody lives there.
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Open to tenancy, first month’s rent up front. No zombies.
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Love, love, LOVE your last line!
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Thank you. I did too. Isn’t it nice when the words in our head come out the way we intended?
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Kirizar, Welcome to Friday Fictioneers! What you’ve done in 100 words and great description is create a character out of the house. It stands well alone, but would also be a great beginning for a longer story. Well written. 🙂 —Susan
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I am trying to learn how to say a lot with fewer words. So, thank you. Part of the joy of Friday Fictioneers is in its brevity. So much of writing has unending expectations, it can take the joy out of the experience. This is a quick brain refreshment, to remember why I like writing in the first place. That one sentence or word that makes the whole.
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the mountain and the trees argue about property lines – lovely!
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I chortled when I thought of it. Thanks for noticing it too.
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