The House

They painted the walls blue. “Blue like your eyes,” he said with a sparkle in his. They stood next to each other, washing away the colorless white as the sapphire drops spattered their faces and hands. He pressed her against the wet paint while laughter turned to need. The wall embraced their passion. It soaked through the plaster and into the very bones of the house.

They loved.

She ran through the doorways, her tiny feet slapping against the wood floors. Her hair stood on end, tufts of chick down swaying as she darted away from her mother who begged her to slow down as she waddled in pursuit. Her father watched with a small smile on his face. The little girl paused in the wide entry way with a look in her deep blue eyes that warned the chase was far from over. Her mother’s hand rested on the white trim. The house supported her for a moment until the game resumed.

They grew.

His screams bounced off the ceiling. His mother pleaded, her pinched forehead and dark rimmed eyes brimming with tears. His cries continued, filling the house until nothing else remained. His father put his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away his touch. He screamed louder. His father took him from his mother and instantly, he quieted. His small brown eyes closed, his breaths came in great gulps and hiccups as he fell into a deep sleep. His mother slumped to the floor, the bare wood softening to cradle her.

They struggled.

They sat next to each other on cushions padded with age. His arm wrapped around her while she looked at him with eyes that had faded in time. “They still match the walls,” he whispered against her lips. She sighed and looked out the window as their past and their future walked up the drive. The house sighed and creaked as it shifted with her.

They lived.

She sat next to him, holding his hand and whispered words of regret. He rasped words of comfort as the breath in his chest rattled. Candlelight sank into the blue walls until the flickering flames failed to penetrate the darkness pressing around them. From the doorway two pairs of eyes looked on. They leaned against the faded blue walls creased with a highway of cracks.

They lost.

The house was silent as the ghosts whispered like sand in the wind.

This is a little one off based on the Write on Edge prompt this week. The photos in this series were so hauntingly beautiful, I wanted to make sure I submitted a piece.