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Shadows
With the dark early wind running along the dying wood
The shifting trees knocking on the shingles late in darkness.
The rain never stopping causing floods of sorrow to flow,
travel, slide into the depth of the history of the house.
A mouse not even tempted to rome free,
While dead trees house no homes to wildlife.
Smells sharp as knives piercing nose scratching
throat choking… petrifying hums.
Aged smells lurking above the nose.
Shadows.
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This story is about a house in a black and white picture that is from the 1800's that is falling apart and no one lives there anymore and there are big tall trees surrounding the house.