There were lives here once. If you listen, you can still hear the honkytonk with its out-of-tune F sharp. If you look, you may half-glimpse the flounced skirt of a bar girl.
A house, sure—a house can disappear. Fires catch easy, and carpenter ants will gnaw through a building in days. Even whole streets vanished in the war. But towns, towns shouldn’t just blink out.
I turn to Tommy. He’s long gone too, of course. “The main street were right here, weren’t it, mate?”
And he shakes his head and says, “Till the seam ran out.”
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Neil MacDonald Author 
Dear Neil,
The emptiness is tangible.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much. Rochelle
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This is the reality.
We all have to accept what is left.
The main light & previous town may be no more, but memories remain.
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It’s a reality. But we can make new ones
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Hopefully, in time such towns will arise from the ashes.
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On the day of judgment all the graves will be opened, perhaps
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Towns built on sand, unfortunately.
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Here today, gone tomorrow
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Excellent writing, Neil. The melancholy is palpable. Even ghosts cannot escape it.
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Thank you, Jade. Especially not the ghosts
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You’re very welcome, Neil.
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A tale that touched my heart, for this afternoon I was waiting in a car park, where once stood a fine Georgian house and a beautiful garden. And I found myself wondering about change
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Thanks so much, Michael
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Lovely writing: out of tune piano and towns blinking out. Eminently teal-able stuff.
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Thanks so much, Jilly
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Steal-able even!
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I got it, I was pretty sure you weren’t talking ducks
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It’s sad when even the ghosts are feeling melancholy! Lovely writing, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Dale
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🙂
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In the end, nature claims the prize. Wonderful story, Neil.
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Thank so much, Bill
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You don’t know what you have ’til it’s gone.
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Too right
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There is a sadness and yearning for the good old times of the past that reverberates in your words.
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They weren’t actually that good, of course
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Nature will take back what was taken.
An incredible longing in this story, Neil.
Isadora 😎
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Thanks so much, Isadora
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Follow the gold.
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Yes, that’s pretty much what happened
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So sad. There’s loss here. A nice taste of what happens when the money runs out for any small town.
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Thanks so much, Laurie. It must be hard to be a citizen of a town that’s vanished
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Like looking at a life they knew existed at one point but, now seems as if it never did. Well done.
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Thanks so much, Andrea
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A ghost town for the ghosts, very sad and a great voice. I always find it rather reassuring though how fast nature takes over again.
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Earth abides. Thanks so much
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Your story reminds me of a chicken house near here that was converted into a dance hall.
It was informally known as the Elkins Stomp
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Loved this. The melancholy was almost audible.
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Thanks so much, Sandra
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Oh, good one, Neil! You seem to have felt the same melancholy atmosphere in this photo that I did. It’s tangible!
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It cried out to me
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Time and entropy will destroy all in their way. Unless volcanoes and the ocean get there first.
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And eventually raise up new mountain chains
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Melancholy ghosts remembering all that was, Beautifully written, well done.
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Thanks so much, Fleur
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