She walks through the rain,
heading down to the river.
So tall is she the umbrella can’t stop
her long skirt soaking up
rainfall below her knees,
and soon it clings to her limbs uncomfortably.
We watch her go, as she often does so
when her mood gets her down.
But his body’s never there.
Written for F.I.A.F. in 2011, at Multiply
Years ago, this was a busy commercial warehouse.
One year’s flood damage took more than shops and homes – it took people: in dirty swirling waters, or as refugees seeking a new start elsewhere.
Except Pop Haggerton.
The old fool’s still living in that damp garret up there, convinced that if waters subside, the town will regrow.
Originally posted at Multiply (R.I.P.) in 2012, for Word Fix at 56 challenge
James, at eight, closely cuddled an old toy rabbit from when he was three.
This house was too large, too cold, too damp, too miserable.
Two years here and the family all felt the gloom of the dark, isolated gothic run-down ruin.
When they finally moved out, James happily dropped Bun-bun, and left him there.
Originally posted in response to a 56-word writing challenge (Word Fix at 56) , based on a photograph, in 2012