-Lonely Mansion
Sir Truth watches the slushy snow drifts build.

Throwing slush balls at the occasional car on Gregson.
A sickly dog in the basement a senseless zombie only conscious of smell. Dragging its matted fur limbs in a circle of death.

The chandeliers hang low and the many remotes are indecipherable. A small robot cleans the floors in an organized chaos that no human could plan for or understand.
The holiday parties are singing their carols and drinking their mulled ciders and nogs. I clutch a champagne of beers, hardly a celebration, but a good place to begin.

Evil is not the only one who seeks company.
So much room for thoughts to live; a basement, veranda, foyer, garage, empty without my presence and energy. A ghost would not seek the kind of solitude in which I find myself.

The space is like a chair with no one for sitting; a park with no kids, or a castle without its king.


JJ Barnes -Snowflakes