Friday Fictioneers : The weirdest thing

PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

‘How long’s it been derelict?’ said Abbott.

Daniels referred to his notebook. ‘About four years.’

‘Is that all?’

The plaster had sloughed off the walls to show wooden laths, the ribs of the house exposed. He smelled Tom cat. Blankets in one corner, a stub of candle, a twist of tin foil – someone had been there, maybe not for a while.

‘Where is it?’

Daniels nodded towards a doorway. Light spilled through cracks onto warped floorboards.

‘It flows like liquid,’ whispered Abbott. ‘And the colours … Like oil on water.’

‘That’s not the weirdest thing,’ said Daniels, opening the door.

 


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. Come share, read and comment here.

 

 

 

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73 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers : The weirdest thing

  1. Now we have two things to wonder about – what flows like liquid, colourful like oil on water and what the hell is weirder?
    Intriguing, beautifully described….

    Like

  2. As usual, you use striking detail to make your scenario authentic. In this instance I admire particularly “The plaster had sloughed off the walls to show wooden laths, the ribs of the house exposed” It’s the specificity of the description of lath and plaster walls. It’s accurate for the period of the house, but few people would think of it immediately. However, when prompted, they remember and so it feels to them as though you’re describing the scene in front of you. I must try that technique myself sometime!
    I would love to know what’s behind the door – nothing very dangerous, I think. (Unless the beauty is bait in a trap…)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a lovely comment! Thank you Penny. Glad you liked that description – I thought it worked quite well. And I imagined something lovely beyond the door too – peculiar but lovely. Thank you so much for your encouraging words and for reading

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  3. Such marvelous descriptions. I delt with plaster and lathe walls in our 1910 house in another section of Bellingham. Your words reminded me of the smell of age emitted when tearing those walls out. Now, what the heck is behind the door?

    Liked by 1 person

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