The looming apple tree in the front yard used to be ideal for sitting under while admiring the soft light glinting off the ruby bricks and pristine roof shingles of her old home. It lay on the outskirts of a large city, far away enough so that only the loudest of the bustling noise would touch it. Every spring, the apple boughs would be laden with scarlet fruit for a fortnight before they dropped to the supple grass below. A creek ran its course around the house’s border, in constant motion despite the overpopulation of rocks and algae in its way. A wooden fence stood near the creekside, supporting a mass of mock-orange plants. They were trimmed every week, and the blossoms would often drop into the pellucid waters and drift down the gentle current.
But then the ruby tarnished, the shelter overhead deteriorated, and the apple tree had long since stopped giving gifts. It had been cut down soon after she moved away, and they had done a crude job of it; a substantial part of the tree stump remained planted in the dry earth, and flagrant gashes encrusted with dried, amber sap cut across the rich maroon wood. A blockade had been put up near the mouth of the creek, bringing the current to a halt and causing a buildup of turbid water that teemed with dead insects and fallen leaves. Mock-orange plants had overtaken the entirety of the fence, proving to be a burden, as the fence was beginning to slouch down towards the dirt. Blossoms dropped to the parched soil, where they were left for weeks until they fully decayed.
The house had turned into just that: a house.
It was no longer a home.
This is just something I came up with for a school assignment in my English class… I was sort of pleased with how it turned out so, here it is! I had a lot of fun using pretty words throughout this entire thing and I might have gotten a little bit carried away with them………….. oops.