Photo Prompt: C.E. Ayr

The house looked like a broken tooth that marred the beauty on the pretty face of our dolled-up neighbourhood. The grand villas, the posh apartment complexes, the manicured lawns, the swanky super markets, everything spoke of wealth and progress. That dilapidated house, with its broken doors, mossy walls, and a solitary resident, “didn’t quite fit here” they said.

I’d seen her from our balcony on some evenings – the countless folds near her eyes and mouth, the snow-white hair that she combed with a trembling hand, the mutterings that failed to make their way to my bungalow after crossing the neatly trimmed garden around it. Yet, something about the setting sun falling on her wrinkled face, a thin glimmer of light reflecting on those dull grey eyes, made me rooted on the spot and wonder about her several times.

Where was her family?

How did she sustain herself?

Did she ever expect a visitor?

That day, when I watched the house being torn down, I swallowed down the sadness and regret. I wondered what she’d have told me had I visited her when there was still time.

(Word Count: 187 words.)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit HERE.

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

10 thoughts on “Decay

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