Putting My Feet In The Dirt August Writing Prompt#17: Shadow Monsters
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Bleached bones
asleep in a field
a tangle of weeds have buried the dirt road nothing grows out here anymore.
Weathered boards, rusty nails-
The Fitch House looks out to the west with
eyeless window frames
broken furniture in the living room, unmade beds waiting for fresh linen in the bedrooms upstairs
a clock grandfather clock comes to life when it rains
the basement door is locked and the key is buried
in the garden where Mrs. Fitch used to grow tomatoes and borage.
Trees out front
a creek out back
where the shadow monsters drink
when they are thirsty and they think they are alone and no one is watching them
from the Fitch’s Farmhouse and their field full of bleached and sleeping bones.
