The House That God Forgot

A white colonial house sat atop a hill. The weak white fence dragging around the house supplied a large green yard; that on a day like today, seemed glum. The graveyard in its northern side did little to brighten up this shadowed day. Such gloom could suggest god had forgotten this house.

Inside the excited tunes of La Poule danced throughout the house jumping from the record player. In the living room a young boy drives his wooden car over the antique wooden floors swerving away from the fireplace that spat fire onto the small child. 

A father stands in his dark bedroom running his tie up to his neck. Preparing for another gloomy day at his job that consumed his life away from his family. 

A young mother kneels outside facing the light rain and fog of the day to take care of her garden. She hums a tune digging a shallow hole for a new tomato plant. 

Their daughter, a teenager, sits on her bed rock music flooding her ears from the Walkman on her head.

No, none of this is right. In a home god forgot the devil fills in the absence. 

Record player no longer emmitting music but tearing into any ears nearby with screams of agony and pain. Young boy not swerving anymore, he instead crawls into the orange blaze of the fire. He giggles as if this is still fun play as the flame consumes him.

Father no longer on the floorboard but on a stool. He runs the noose up to his neck kicking the stool out from underneath him. No more days at his gloomy job. 

Mother now heaving dirt onto her daughter as rain pours onto the lifeless teen making for a muddy grave.