The Weeds

We called her old house The Weeds.  To this day I have never seen a home so entirely overgrown with what I think was every variety of weed and creeping vine that has ever existed.  Dandelions, crabgrass, sumac, ragweed, and thistle all grew to sizes unseen by most people.  There was an old rock garden which now appeared to be an ancient weathered graveyard, the stones coated in layers of colorful moss and fungus.  And the mushrooms.  In every dark spot under the old wild shrubs and tired branches of dying trees you could see them.  Hundreds and hundreds of bleach-white mushrooms.

During the day, the house existed in perpetual dusk due to the constant shade from the parapet of trees surrounding the property.  Crickets' calls were long and low, like the croaking of frogs.  We imagined a large swamp somewhere around the back of the place, though none of us ever dared to confirm this fact.  Well, until the day Sonny disappeared.

To be continued...

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