The Atelier of Abandoned Spaces
This is a long, dusty, dark corridor, with a light at the end of the hall. Someone is in there. It’s so quiet you can hear a pencil scratching.
You approach the note taped to the Atelier wall. It reads: “When we left, we let the skylights crack, let snakes climb the stairs, let pools of water drip onto the basketball court, we let strangers scrawl cryptic drawings on the wall. Now birds flutter in the stairwell. A cold book folds open and closed as the wind breathes into it. A racoon passes, unhurried. Now the stairs creak and the house grows crooked as wind whistles through the fence. The welcome mat remains and the wallpaper peels. We locked the door, but the walls fell down.”