The Collectors - First Installment
The yard grows fuller by the day, by the week and by the month. A punching bag hangs from the fig tree; battered not by hands but by nature’s elements. The birds use it for a perch, flitting from the branches of the tree, to the bag where they sway a few moments, then flit down to the twisted remnants of several bed stands and some ripped mattresses and other assorted articles. No grasses or flower beds are visible in this miniature city. Rats run through the labyrinths of the massed mess.... Sign in to see full entry.