The Reflecting Pool

August 18, 2010
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My place of peace was an old house. Creaking, moaning, unconcerned with the sins of the humans who lived there. It collected their stories without bias without care keeping them in walls no one could kill. Now it will hold my story in its many halls full of twists and turns, ups and downs, and forgotten stairways. The reflecting pool is smooth as glass, perfect and still. The predawn air is chilled promising an early snow. The roads to this living house will soon be blocked, and it will be many months before more visitors come. I turn my back on the skeletal trees reaching bony hands towards the sky, seeming to beg for mercy. It will be many months before I return to this house that holds my memories and my crimes.

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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

-Missy- said...
Sept. 6, 2010 at 3:20 pm
This was a very good and descriptive piece. Good job!
thepreechyteenager said...
Aug. 29, 2010 at 10:58 am

This was beautiful.  The imagery was just stunning, anf somehow you crammed all of that detail into that little paragraph, and it didn't seem like too much at all.

Can you comment and rate my story, "Encounter"?

TaliaWolf replied...
Aug. 29, 2010 at 2:39 pm
I'm really glad you liked it :) usually I have a hard time describing something without rambling so I'm really glad this came out so well. I'll definatly read your piece.
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