Thursday, August 5, 2010


Microfiction Monday #42

Only the crumbling walls remember now.

Only they recall the screams of the small children.

The burning of flesh and the witch’s maniacal howling.

The oven that held dark secrets was gone.

The very last gumdrops

Had long ago melted in the unforgiving sun.

New growth had sprung up, covering the dilapidated peppermint stairs.

Only the crumbling walls remember now.


MorningAJ said...

That's amazing. I've always had a fixation about how walls can remember things. That somehow major events get stuck in the crystal structure of stone and brick. This struck a chord.

Suz said...

smokers that was good
this is story of victory for the kids
no more witch

CatLadyLarew said...

Whoa! Thank you for coming to my blog so I could discover you! Powerful writing here!

Cassiopeia Rises said...

Oh so dark and lovely. All things that man makes seems to crumble, leaving behind just a hint of our dark ways. Just love this.
Go to the Undead Poets at:
It is a fun site and you might like to join.