The Texas Panhandle is a place where you can stand knee-deep in mud and have sand blow in your face. The wind blows so hard there, and so often, the trees all lean the same way. As I stood in the muddy street—not knee-deep by any stretch of the imagination—I could attest to half the saying being true. Gritty sand stung my cheek as I stood staring at the old house. It leaned to the east, and I couldn’t decide if the wind had pushed it that way, or it was somehow alive and straining to look around me with its two dark eyes. It spoke to me in groans and creaks, and I found it sad. I tried to recall the love and laughter that had once filled it; the singing on the porch, the smell of frying chicken and biscuits made from scratch. The memories, much like the sand, had a sting to them, so I turned and walked away.
This post is a part of SoCS ~ https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/24840312/posts/2589351338
Susan St.Pierre said
Suburb imagery, as usual. Your writing always sweeps me away. Good one!
charlesmashburn said
Thank you, Susan!
Susan St.Pierre said
HA…I meant superb. You were nowhere near a suburb. LOL
charlesmashburn said
I didn’t even notice that! I read so much, I usually see what it’s supposed to say.
Lakshmi Bhat said
Very well written, The picture came alive.
charlesmashburn said
Thank you very much!
Linda G. Hill said
Lovely imagery! 🙂 Thanks so much for joining in, Charles. 😀 A great SoCS post this is. Welcome to the prompt!
charlesmashburn said
Thank you! I’ll get over to your blog and read the other entries today. I enjoy seeing what other writers come up with on the prompts.