A setting assignment for an english course and a look at my photoshop skills.
The twin moons rose slowly over the dilapidated old house. The light from their gray surfaces shone upon its weathered planks and mossy shingles, giving it a bright, clean look. By a strange stroke of luck this one house had survived through everything that has happened in the last 3 years; the meteor that had been sucked into orbit and become Earth’s second moon, the floods that resulted from different tide patterns, the destruction and rebuilding of the cities, the loss of entire continents and the birth of new ones, the groups that had tried to take over countries and the rebels that had hid in the country for so many months, this one house had made it through all that. It stood now, some distance from any city or amount of population, inhabited by a few wildcats and crows that had sheltered behind its thin wooden wallas during the depths of last years winter. A group of rebels had hid out here once, outlawed by their country for their religion and beliefs. They had prayed within the walls of the house and left their marks on the outside of it, scratched with charcoal or paint, messages for future rebels, images to show that they were not going to be ignored.
If houses had feelings it would be a proud house, glad it had survived so much, but also lonely because there were no more houses, only great steel skyscrapers and underground bunkers, the new residence of all humanity. The house would wish for someone to live it again, to breathe life into its walls. If the house had a memory it might have looked back, remembering its construction, its first inhabitants. It might have thought about the happy little suburb it had been built in, the other houses like it, standing in their own little lots in neat rows. But houses do not have memories, nor feelings, for they are just houses so it just stood there, as it had for decades. The grass swayed around it in its own dance, making patterns that were constantly shifting. The cats and birds stayed close to the house, feeding off the mice that had stayed in the house for generations, living in the cool space between the earth and the floor.
The little old house stood in the empty field, and it did not know or feel or remember. It stood there and it would continue to stand there and that was all it had ever done for it was just a house.