The Crumbling Old House

The sky is as grey as the school in the olden days. Bright blue spots appear to be pushing their way through the misty grey barrier of cloud. The sky drifts past as slow as a snail. Sea waves crash upon the white island. Waves of the deep blue sea seem to be imprisoning the house in a cage. The crumbly old house seems lonely sitting by itself in the corner of the island, sobbing its heart away. The glare from the house looks like an ice cube compared to the sky. The land appears like an ice desert because it is so bare and deserted. The odd whispy tree hides the house in its cage of waves. Washed up pieces of wood and shells lie there on the shore, untouched and broken.
By Estelle Norman