This Old House

Time again for Friday Fictioneers. Over a 100 people each week join the merry band of devotees to create a 100 word piece of fiction based on the weekly prompt. You’ll not be shot for going over nor for stepping sideways and finding that your fiction suddenly rhymes (sorry).

I haven’t had chance to catch up with the majority of last weeks entries or to answer the comments on mine, I apologise on bended knee, but life, work and crap got in the way. I promise to do much better this week.

 

Photo : Mary Shipman

Papered lives and layers of time,

Ghosts in mortar, spirits in lime,

Layers of love and life and loss,

Echoes filled of what once was,

Coloured hues with faded lustre,

Patterned still but lacking structure,

Hints of laughter and hints of tears,

Hints of hope and hints of fears,

The kiss we stole, the hidden smile,

The secret look, the wedding aisle,

The child we made, the man we raised,

The house we built, the home we craved,

 *

And now all that’s left is the paper trail,

That hides beneath its faded veil,

But when we’re gone and turned to dust,

You’ll see those layers and remember us.