The parlour folds. The second floor and attic succumbing to a not insubstantial case of rot. Ears ring with the thrust of collar beams through floorboards. Rafters exploding under sudden pressure. The room a ricochet of iron nails. Regal linoleum ripped apart. A florid extravagance of shredded wallpaper. Outside the gable roof sags limply, sloughing burnished tiles. A chorus of dropped ceramic. A whole wing of the house sinking into itself, shedding ornament. Like a mushroom spoiling in the forest, its shape collapsing into clouds of spores. Window panes burst as frames compress, the back porch spitting out a single splintered breath of glistening shards, broken steps, Summer bench slats. The lawn a spread of ochre panelling, puzzle pieces of carpenter’s joy.
▽ | #relic