- a blanket fort on scuffed linoleum – faded yellow with outdated designs on over tile. pastel pink blanket made of wool pulled over a solid oak chair with a high back and intricate swirls carved into its surface. the sun peeks in through aged red and white curtains, its been years since its window panes have saw a paper towel and bottle of cleaner. inside of the fort lies a hand stitched doll with golden blonde hair made of fraying yarn, she is loved from the top of her stained head to the tips of the once blue socks that cover her feet. its been 17 years and still she waits.
- an oil spill soaks up the spectrum of every color of the rainbow and reflects against the midday sun. the asphalt beneath it is in desperate need of repair as the edges crumble and the earth threatens to take back the land that was once hers.
- queen anne’s lace dot along a rolling hillside – white lacy flowers against a bright green backdrop. the wind picks up and they begin to softly sway back and forth, back and forth as if they’re being rocked; comforted. they will die out someday but just for today they will dance.
- worn tennis shoes squeak against the freshly waxed floor. their laces are lacking in adequate length on the left side and the bottoms speak of many journeys but they’ve miles to go. no one would blame a person if they tossed them in the trash without a second glance and yet they’ve not moved an inch. the itch to escape is nearly suffocating in its intensity.
- in the middle of a dense forest with lush foliage and ancient trees there stands a once treasured tree house. tiny shelves cling to the walls with rusted nails and the door has long since fallen to the wayside. clumsily written names decorate its walls and alongside the outer shell – a child’s name and then another. birds nest in what was once a proud building. the echo of children from decades past rings out like the smallest whisper.
writing warm up’s and such