Posted in Sunday Photo Fictioner

Perspective

Source:  The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.

Sunday Photo Fictioner 10/01/2016

138 01 January 10th 2016

I used to be admired.  The first thing that a driver saw as they came out of the looping driveway, drawing their eye to the manor behind me.  The cars, suddenly free from the shadow of the giant elms gracing each side of that drive, blocked any forward visibility until they emerge, driving straight at me before sharply turning to park at the side.

In the past, I had much to be admired for.  I was made of expensive Italian white marble.  In my heyday, my square base had an elegant white horse that appeared to be dancing on its back legs.  The suggestion of motion present in a statue.  Over time, my pristine white marble grayed with age.

All that is left of the estate is an old hut erected for the workmen that came to demolish the manor house.  I was not listed on the work order so was just abandoned.  The driveway was no longer visible, buried under the overgrowth.  Now when people photograph here, they focus on the trees in the background or in that hut that is slowly sliding toward obscurity, as it, like me is no longer required.

(194 words for just the story)

 

Advertisements

Author:

I was 46 years old when I begun this blog, female and married with a house full of cats (7). My past is littered with the impact of events that happened when I was a teen. Two loves of my life have been nursing and studying. I just completed my Master of Arts: Media Studies endorsement. My blog will be about the things I think about, that might be better served being written rather than squirreled away in my mind festering. It is the meanderings of my mind as I seek to define myself and my world.

19 thoughts on “Perspective

      1. The history would be fantastic. The secrets, the markings on the walls. I really do wish they could talk sometimes. The house I live in is almost 200 years old, and I wish I knew some of the things that happened here.

        Like

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s