The clock continues in its never ending circle as the second hand slowly ticks by. Dark clouds in the sky, rain falling on the windows and the house; gray and empty, matching the mood of the summer storm.
No fire crackles in its hearth, just wet wood sitting in the place it had been so long ago.
The floorboards no longer creak under the weight of feet, instead they are silent and still.
Moth eaten curtains sway gently as they had in another time. The sideboards are weak, the roof leaks, and you can’t even trust the floor.
The rain washes the layer of dirt that has gathered on the windows and the house reminiscences to a better time.
A time where sunlight flooded through its windows, illuminating comfortable furniture in its warm, golden glow.
A time when two kids on the weekends woke up to the smell of sizzling bacon and warm pancakes.
A time when the floorboards creaked but the family didn’t mind.
The house reminisces on the sound of the dog’s feet on the floorboards, the click, click, click of its claws.
It remembers when its windows and floor were clean, where its pink paint glowed in the sun’s rays and the tire swing out front amused the young boy and girl.
Now, the tire sits empty, swinging in the cool breeze, collecting water that will evaporate later. A green glow accompanies the dark night covering the abandoned neighborhood in its sickly aura.
The house sits alone on the side of a road, its neighbors gone long ago. No one walks in the neighborhood anymore; nobody comes over or dares to enter the house.
Through the window a young mouse peeks, to see what a more intelligent race has done, and wonders as it begins to make its own memories, “what good is intelligence if it destroys everything you know?”