Solitude | Teen Ink

Solitude

January 21, 2010
By NiteVenom BRONZE, Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
NiteVenom BRONZE, Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of the week.” ~ William Dement


The wind whispered across the field of wild flowers and grass, undisturbed by the small obstacles as it made its unbridled way across the valley, only to lap lightly against the surface of the building standing there with a solemn air. It had made its home there decades ago, and it appeared to have one large room surrounded by decaying walls and rotting wood. The white paint on the outside was now a dingy yellow color, and the brown roof had long lost its durability to the beatings of nature. Atop the roof stood a hexagonal shaped tower with a small window plastered on every side. There was a dome for its head that carried a windmill on top, which spun around lazily as the wind coaxed it back to performing its duty of slowly spinning the way it had been forced and dutifully showing the direction it had been blown in. The old building gave a sigh as the wind stopped, causing random pops and creaks in the wood. The sun was young that day and gave off just enough heat to melt the mist off of the ground and cause it to retreat higher in to the surrounding forest that seemed to incline around the field. There were various trees within the green landscape that befriended those of the same kind which grew in abundance around it, the same to the symphony of flowers that had made their home in the field. The building continued to stand alone.





Any idea of its existence had long passed the minds of man, and it had no brother to join it nor anyone to claim it as their own. The only sign that it had ever been cared for by a living thing was the gravestone that remained in front of it. The plants had long made the grave its companion, and the building watched with an envious appearance as these plants, these living things enveloped themselves around the last thing that it had any tie to.




The wind picked up once more; hard enough to sway the trees and blow the flowers into a dance upon the ground, as well as make the building shiver unwillingly. Suddenly there was laughter, and all was still as nature stopped to listen to the unfamiliar sound that had voiced itself. The laughter increased, which signaled that there was more than one being causing it, and the building stared ahead through two dark windows that had long been tear stained with rain.




"Over here!" A voice. There was a dim recognition and memories that were dulled for so long started to resurface and have more color. "Just like she said!"




"This doesn't seem like a good idea. It looks like no one has been here in forever. Your grandma is crazy." Figures appeared coming out of the trees, two girls and a young boy, and approached the building.




"You're crazy," retorted the young boy, insulted that the older girl had said something about his family.




"Easy, kiddo; she's just scared," soothed the oldest of the bunch, who seemed to be related to the boy because of their similar features.




"I'm not scared. I just have a bad feeling." The girl was obviously insulted and put her hand on the building while frowning. When it cracked under her touch, she jumped away, as if she had been bitten by the building itself.




"So in other words, you're scared," The boy teased.




"Shut up!" She snapped, "No one's talking to you."




The oldest frowned again. "Easy, you're older than him by a long shot."




Embarrassed, the girl looked back at the building and pointed to it. "What is it anyway?"




"It's the church that my grandparents got married in. My grandmother wanted to know if it was still standing, and if my grandfather's grave was still in front of it." The older girl replied, making her way to the front of the building and staring at the gravestone, rubbing the plants away from their place and looked for a name or epitaph only to frown when she couldn't make it out so well. "I'm sure it says 'In loving memory of Vincent Mauler' it doesn't matter if I can't read it," she concluded, then stood up to gaze at the front of the building. By now the other two were already at her side and following her gaze.




"For it being such a sunny morning, it looks so dark in there," the other girl observed.




"We should go inside." The young boy suggested, a mischievous hint to his tone.




"Let's not," said the eldest before her friend could protest the same thing.




The boy listened to her despite the look of burning curiosity displayed across his face.




Despite not wanting to go inside, the younger girl cleared her throat, "Well... We could give it a shot. I always wanna be able to say that I went inside. God knows I won't be coming back here ever again, though," she replied stiffly.




The young boy turned his bright eyes toward the older girl when she saw that she was outnumbered, she sighed in defeat.




"Thanks, sissy!" He cried happily, running toward the side of the building again where we saw large gaps in the wall big enough for him to walk through.




"Wait for us, kiddo!" she called after him; however, the two girls were in no rush to catch up as the nonchalantly strolled into the building after him.




He had already made his home there. Rotting, wooden pews had collapsed or looked about ready to because of how long they had been left unattended, and there was a mossy coating on the ground, walls, and every other surface. Plants had grown through the cracks and weaved themselves around the pews, making a permanent home. The wind started blowing again which caused the area to moan slightly; both girls got tense, but the boy just laughed.




"C'mon guys, it's just the wind!" he said teasing, and to add on, he raised his hands and waved his fingers at them, "It's not like this place is haunted."




As if on cue, one of the pews finally gave way and crashed onto the ground, which caused a unison cry from the group, and they all ran recklessly out of the church. As soon as they felt the safety of the sun on their backs, it seemed to warm the chill the group of children had all felt in their cores and, daringly, the younger boy looked back and gazed at the building longingly. "That was nothing; we should go back inside."




"No, I just realized how old that place is, and it could give away at any moment. We should all just go home," although breathless and still shaken from the experience her voice continued to stay firm.




In her best attempt to be nice to the small boy, the other girl put her hand on his shoulder, "It's dangerous," she said gently. The breeze snaked by them, as if beckoning the three to go back inside and explore the old church more, but it seemed as though their minds had been made up, and even the boy finally gave in and agreed it was time to go home. He asked his older sister if they would ever come back to the old church, if not to explore, then to visit their grandfather, and in reply, his sister stated that it could be possible. Secretly in their hearts they both knew that they would probably never come back to the valley again where the pines surrounded the clearing, the wild flowers grew free, and the old building would stand as lonely as the vast sea.



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