The sky darkens as a thick blanket rolls over the small village. As the air thickens, breeze turns to bursts. The power lines sway dangerously high above the ground. The town is battered and abused, the buildings small and weak compared to the mighty force of nature… All but one… Its name is never spoken aloud, for fear of what might happen if it is ever truly acknowledged, “The House on 12th Street”! The rain grows harsher and the lightning more relentless, but all is dry inside the house. The light from the merciless storm pieces the windows, catching on the airborne dust particles floating in the main hallway. A long, beige beam of light flows elegantly from the windowsill and lands gracefully on the wooden floor. But something is off about this magnificent scene. Lightning strikes! The silhouette is unmistakable. The shadow of a human hand laying, cold and stiff. Everybody knew this house was to be taken seriously, the locals of the village daren’t go near it, and its almost comp
Welcome to the blogosphere! I love this photo.
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to more posts and photostories!
Love, Jazzy Jack
hi and thank you
DeleteHello and welcome. I love the photo, with one bright little flower standing tall :-). I look forward to reading the words that go too!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful idea for a blog! I love looking at photos and hearing the stories behind them. I'm going to enjoy following along with your posts!
ReplyDeleteThank you! its always nice to know that someone likes my ideas
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