If the Walls Could Talk series #21 - 24
I've made hundreds of images over the years of old abandoned homesteads, houses and barns. I am intrigued, not just by the buildings, but by the lives of the people who may have lived and worked in them. I often imagine a story, a scenario of what might have been inside these crumbling walls, giving breath once again to the people who called it home. These are my stories, brief glimpses into the past. Continuation of series, images #21-24
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He said she must have run off. Perhaps. Folks swear they see her at the dormer windows, hear the muffled sound of a woman’s tears.
Beautiful in its way. Naught but a sea of grass to witness in any direction. Nothing to make a shadow. Only the relentless howling of the wind breaks the silence. She fears she’ll go mad.
He writes often. Asks about her and the children. Saves the letters till he gets to the fort, wraps them up to send east. Tells her about the beaver he trapped, the pelts he brought in to trade for supplies. About the bear he killed and what a fine coat it made. Says he’ll be home soon. Knows he’ll be gone again when the snow melts off the mountains.
The sheets billow on the line like the sails of a pirate ship. I dream of stowing away and seeking adventure on the high seas. Billy spoils everything. Says there’s no such thing as a girl pirate.
To Be Continued...
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