I approach the massive doors.
The lumber has become grey, warped,and brittle.
The old timber still houses the scent of the livestock that once occupied this space, the earthy pleasant aroma wafts through the cracks and spaces, as my sweaty hands fumble with the key.
The chain holding the door, is ancient and I realize I should have gotten some oil, or spray lubricant to resurrect it.
Orange flakes of oxidation, fall to the pungent black earth.
Splinters of microscopic metal particulates force their way into my fingertips, white blood cells rush to the offenders and begin the process of eviction.
The padlock has to be twisted back and forth to expose the key hole. It's rusty also, so rusty that the taste of metal overwhelms me and I am forced to spit the fine grain of invisible metal out.
I am second guessing my decision now. The prehistoric padlock, doesn't unlock, so much as it surrenders, It's job complete, the contraption falls into separate pieces. The door hesitates, it has been closed so long that it has forgotten it's function. I grunt as I push the door to its furthest point.
The interior of the old barn is anticlimactic, just hay bales with mushrooms growing at their base, ceilings so high that it would appear that the barn was made for creatures far more massive than bovine, equine or swine. The last vestiges of an apple harvest line one wall, the thing that used to be a basket has merged with what once were apples and lived and died here. I hear the rustle of leathery wings, right before the disturbed colony of bats take flight.
My eyes follow the nocturnal creatures as they flow through the door. Yeah, this is perfect. I am glad I bought this old barn. I am going to create my masterpiece here.
The lumber has become grey, warped,and brittle.
The old timber still houses the scent of the livestock that once occupied this space, the earthy pleasant aroma wafts through the cracks and spaces, as my sweaty hands fumble with the key.
The chain holding the door, is ancient and I realize I should have gotten some oil, or spray lubricant to resurrect it.
Orange flakes of oxidation, fall to the pungent black earth.
Splinters of microscopic metal particulates force their way into my fingertips, white blood cells rush to the offenders and begin the process of eviction.
The padlock has to be twisted back and forth to expose the key hole. It's rusty also, so rusty that the taste of metal overwhelms me and I am forced to spit the fine grain of invisible metal out.
I am second guessing my decision now. The prehistoric padlock, doesn't unlock, so much as it surrenders, It's job complete, the contraption falls into separate pieces. The door hesitates, it has been closed so long that it has forgotten it's function. I grunt as I push the door to its furthest point.
The interior of the old barn is anticlimactic, just hay bales with mushrooms growing at their base, ceilings so high that it would appear that the barn was made for creatures far more massive than bovine, equine or swine. The last vestiges of an apple harvest line one wall, the thing that used to be a basket has merged with what once were apples and lived and died here. I hear the rustle of leathery wings, right before the disturbed colony of bats take flight.
My eyes follow the nocturnal creatures as they flow through the door. Yeah, this is perfect. I am glad I bought this old barn. I am going to create my masterpiece here.
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