Writing Practice

Once upon a time there was an old abandoned delapitated house in a hamlet in the canyon. Some said it was haunted. The children of the village didn't go near the property when it was dark. There were rumours that someone had taken his own life in one of the out buildings situated next to the house. Some locals said there was a feeling around the place that made them uneasy.

One day a man and woman drove down the lane, parking the car just short of where the bushes and brambles were too thick to pass through. A tall, shaggy weeping willow guarded the entry onto the acre of land. Blackberry bushes all but obliterated the terraced rock-walled gardens. As they carefully picked their way through the prickly, clinging branches, they could hear the sounds of Spring above and below. Once they passed the various shacks hidden behind the vines, they found themselves in a small clearing. As they took a 360 degrees turn, they both realized at the same moment that they had to buy this beautiful place. Ahead was the old house. A look to the right revealed the mighty river forging through the rock canyon below. To the left and up hill were the gardens, almost snuffed out under the invasive blackberry bushes. Behind was the gate keeper, Mr Weeping Willow.

to be continued