Stories from Around the World:

It was always the staircase I descended to greet my guests. It was majestic—the smell of old wood. History. Knowledge. The decadent crown molding ascending with various carvings etched into the polished Mahogany wood. Colors like the sea, waves and flowery patterns making up the composition. The red velvet, sweet and delicate carpet covering the steps. Standing the test of time, existing solely to provide structure and comfort to the living. The framework—the Bones.

The grand bald eagle sits sculpted into the banister to invite one to walk upwards, taking in elegance with each step. My red evening gown absorbs the staircase as I descend it towards my reception of guests awaiting me in the drawing room. The sound of a grand piano cultivates the air.

All this would be splendid if it were reality. This house rests, engulfed in vines and vegetation, left abandoned in another era. My mind likes to wander in all this ancient mansion had once been; a house where time caught up and won the race. As for my red gown, it is simply a torn, oversized sweatshirt. Parts of the crown molding are missing. Most of the elegance is cracked. The red velvet carpet, dirty and mangled. Its Mahogany wood, faded, and the grand bald eagle, rotted.

I play a few keys on the out-of-tune piano.