Nature vs. Creation

I.
  The brittle paint crumbled beneath the palm of my hand.  I closed my eyes, feeling something in it, something powerful.  I could feel the energy of this old wooden door.  I tried to imagine what was inside.  I saw fallen rafters, steel beams, decayed from years of rust, resting haphazardly against the soiled walls.  Various debris was scattered across the hard cement floors, mostly brittle leaves, crushed cans, broken bottles, and faded newspapers.  The darkness of the room was broken by a single beam of light that entered the room through a softball sized hole in the wall.


II.
  The cobblestone street thumped hollowly against my shoes.  Grey stones stared back at me as I admired the craftsmanship and artistry that went in to laying all of these stones.  Even after more than 100 years, they still stood faithfully in the proper order.  Neither the hooves of horses nor the tires of cars have persuaded the weathered stones to move.

III.
  The rust of the aged railing scraped coldly against the palm of my hand.  Water trickled softly under the concrete bridge where I stood.  No fish swam in these waters, nor did any insect skim the surface.  Only bits of soiled styrofoam, discarded cigarette butts, and aluminum cans covered in grime could be found in these waters.  I imagined the cool feeling of the water on my skin, but decided against walking down the bank for fear of falling.  Instead, I let the soft trickle soothe me and let the cool air fill my lungs.

IV.
  The wooden stairs felt unsteady under my feet.  I wondered if it was a good idea to continue the climb to the top.  With each creak or groan that I felt, I would pause for a second to make sure that the ancient boards didn't give way.  Rusty nails protruded from the splintered wood, standing like trees after a forest fire.  From the looks of their condition, they would not much longer serve their purpose.

V.
  As I walked back down the crack-filled road, I turned around to see the building once more.  A crumbled wall was accented by a caved-in roof.  Broken windows explained the shard of glass in the sole of my shoe.  Several trees to which I didn’t know the names protruded through various holes in the roof.  The agéd red brick had obviously endured much throughout its lifetime, yet still remained, for the most part, sturdy.  With the feel of the dusty bricks still fresh in my mind, I watched the sun setting softly in a red sky.