Solitude From the outside, the building looks composed, as if it has accepted solitude and come to realise that residents and passers-by are a luxury it can do without. The building looks haunted as if there are spirits hiding in the walls. Shadowed by a large cedar tree the moonlight hardly reaches the building, meaning the only light source is the oil lamp I am clutching. The only remaining inhabitants of that abandoned building are the spiders. Like wallpaper, their intricate cobwebs had laced the walls beautifully, but now in dusty clumps they lay scattered across the floor. When looking around the room, one would observe the peeling wallpaper and the broken windows, with edges alike the coastline of a small island; but my eyes were drawn immediately to the bottle of whisky sitting on a small, wooden table in the corner of the room. The strong scent of the whisky had hit me as soon as I stepped into the building but now it burnt my nose with its intense, acidic odour. I notice the seat next to the table. It shows the indentation of the previous occupant. Led by my curiosity, I walk over to the table and reach for the whisky bottle. It is still warm. I prepare myself to hear creaking or voices but instead the looming silence, heavy and dark like a passing cloud, proved to be more frightening. I gently place the bottle back down on the table and with the corner of my eye notice a dirty, old cabinet in the corner of the room. The cabinet’s elaborate designs, although hidden behind the mass of cobwebs, bring some life to the building. The shapes of the wood spiral and interweave, like water flowing down river. The cabinet’s glass doors swing open to uncover sets of silverware, packed neatly into rows on the shelves. I reach out my hand to grasp a particularly stunning candlestick. It is cold from the winter gale rushing throughout the building and the shock of the piercing cold makes me drop it. Each thud of the candlestick is like a beat of my heart. The noise echoes, almost awakening the building. I shudder as I reach down to pick it up, feeling senseless and numb. Upstairs, the condition of the building is no better. Some of the floorboards are missing and most of the walls are destroyed, making the area feel cavernous. A branch of the cedar tree is poking through a hole in the wall, where a window used to be. I grab onto the cedar’s branch and hold on tightly. Crouching against the wall, I close my eyes and wish to be safe. Anonymous
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