martes, 10 de febrero de 2009

The Statement of Alva Griest

Is it correct, or even possible to say a HOUSE has DIED?
That was my first impression. The paint was peeling from it's façade in long pale tongues that revealed worm-eaten wood beneath. Some half of the windows were broken out, with those of the upper story boarded over in a haste. The cupola dome had partially caved in, and one end of the house was entire was lower than the other, as if it had shifted on its foundation and would soon collapse.

The front door stood open or perhaps was missing. That entrance was no more than a black rectangle leading into mystery; splintered bullet holes around the jamb explained little. It was through that portal I was certain Bill had run and I made to follow, my musket and my haversack bouncing on my shoulder and back, my breath ragged in my throat.