The Mystifying Castle

         The sunlight seeps through the ancient castle’s walls, at night the moonlight is a guide in the ever winding stairways of this castle. The doors creak, the stairs squeak with no apprehension of the weary travelers looking for a free way in for the night. A wrong step could be your death into a ravine of weeds. The mold is everywhere, the insides are scattered nothing is in its right place. The walls are lined, miles it seems with long lost dynasties of ancient Rome. Some uglies and some pretties but soon they blend in all too well for anyone’s liking until one pops out making your eyes bulge wide with freight. Things never seem the same after that.
         The view would make anyone step back in a second’s time with awe. The hills of mountains covered lightly in snow look the perfect blend until you see a small black cub. “What a lovely sight,” you’d think forgetting about the castle itself. The stairs, the windows, the mold will seep away.
         The closet is open after all the years; the French clothing must’ve made people go mad with revere. The French cut belts, the silky cloth, the gold under tights were enough to make some girls faint. A princess back in the day must’ve had that room, a teenager perhaps. Everything so old fashioned would make most boys smirk, the dresses so short some nasty thoughts could come amuck. The sleeves so long for such hot weather could make you sweat an ocean a day, the garters so heavy. They look so silly but they did make a good tent for a camping trip in the acres of trees.
         You walk back to your car a thousand yards away when your thoughts drift back to the new and present. You fumble for the keys and ignite the engine wishing you were back at the castle, you recount your memories. No one dares speak as you remember the castle in its crumbling charm without a single ounce of electricity or running water. The old funny fashioned clothing, some too short and some much too long as well the same goes with the makeup. The big tipped brush, the pale white powder that made you scrub your face red. It stuck to your face without a single regret until those last aching seconds the soap did its best. The sponge was scraped until there were only tidbits. The forests of isolation with untamed plants that made an interesting day long game of hide and seek. A wrestle with some cubs, a splash with some ducks, a snapshot of a long riding buck was something nothing could ever replace in the end. All you had left were memories of that wonderful place, so longing and so mesmerizing until someone asked “Whose up for some pizza and foosball,” and everyone cheers snapping back to the present where none of that existed and the most untamed place most people have been to was a park.

*Word Count 500