An abandoned house holds the artwork of the past, each of its rooms stripped bare and covered in a blanket of weeds, grass and mold. Ceilings fallen with thanks to the war of cold, damp, dirt, dust and air. A broken door is the gateway to the smallest darkest room of the house, the only murky window faces the right wall and depicts an item lost to all.
Light shines upon the dark damp wall to which it is hung at a now crooked angle. A mirror. An object which holds faces of the past. Its surface shines with a dull glow, the glass tinted with the green sign of age. Yet its beauty is still captured in the detail of its frame. Though the colouring of an once vibrant gold has faded, the slowly rotting carvings on the wood still show. Swirls dance around the edges and curve into roses near each one of the four corners, though the detail of each petal has crumbled, its natural structure still stands.
Behind the mirror a patch of mold can be found hiding from the world in its dark damp defences, its grown to almost grab its protector, keep it placed to its post which was given many years before. Also hidden hammered to its place stands a rusting iron nail. Its structure weakened by the deterioration of its form, it starts to finally buckle under the weight of its long time friend. The mirror shifts. The nail finally snaps and falls, bringing with it its larger partner. Seconds pass before the destruction is final. The first corner hits the ground and the rippling effect begins and ends with its breaking. Its tragic demise paints the floor with tears of its surface. The glittering shards cast light around the room to give one last act of beauty.
The mirrors long life is at a end, but will never be forgotten.
