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The cottage.
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Fri Dec 12 2003
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The cottage There was still something strangely compelling about the gate. The gate itself looked rather desperate, the rusty hinges could hardly bear the weight of the iron frame. As I touched the gate I could feel the desquamate paint which shed on my exposed, delicate skin like a piece of sand paper. I used all my effort to push this gate open, the hinges were creaking and groaning as if never been opened for a long period of time. I managed to fight against the resistance, I jostled and thrust it open until the space made was just about big enough for me to squeeze through to enter the large garden and follow the path, which the gate was guarding. Recently there had been a series of long, heavy rains, and water stood over the garden. It looked such a dreary place; in the cold twilight the land was...
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