The Journey Started Somewhere

Inspired by a new Creative Adventure :

The World of Georgina McClure

Prompt 1 Part 1

Photo by Guillaume Meurice on Pexels.com

How far would you go to save someone you care about?

How far would you run or fly or crawl

to save somebody else?

 

How far would you go to save

yourself?

Have you ever tried, was it worth it? Did it matter

at all?

 

We all come from somewhere

and I suppose in the end we all end up in the same place

with the same question in our eyes

and frozen on our lips.

 

But before I do that, before I  give up the ghost

I’m going to make one final trip, I’m going to give myself one last chance

to use the key, I’ve kept hidden in my guitar case

and open a door with the bronze hinges shaped like hands

and

go somewhere, because I came from someplace

and sometimes in the storm of confusion that rages in my head,  I know exactly what to do.

 

There is an abandon house

just passed the crossroads

outside of town.

It’s called Bancroft Manor

Writers used to live there and I heard a dancer died there and a sad lady

dressed in red and black

sings in the garden that smells like orange blossoms and chamomile and wood rot when the night sky is full of bats and falling stars.

 

I think the singing Lady in Red and Black is alive,

but she came from someplace and she is going somewhere

all I know for certain is that she hasn’t left yet.

Perhaps she can’t leave

or doesn’t want to leave

just now.

 

The Dancer stands at the top of the stairs, where this isn’t much light

and from the corner of your eye

and only from the corner of your eye

you will  see her  lift  her arms above her head in a graceful arc

and she leaps as she always does,  to nowhere.

 

But she comes back from somewhere and she dances

for no one

every night.

 

The kitchen is warm but there hasn’t

been a fire there in years

and the cupboards are full

of  jars with things that used to grow in the vegetable garden

that is next to the fruit orchard

that hides the cemetery

where no one lives.

For now.

 

Tonight I will leave

for Bancroft Manor

to my room in the attics

that are large and dark and bare

there is a cloudy, dusty window that looks out to the Sea

and the door with a lock that is shaped like and eye

and has iron hinges

shaped like hands that holds the door fast to the frame

waiting to open

because

 

We all come from somewhere

and I suppose in the end we all end up in the same place

just passed the crossroads

at a house

hidden in the woods

called

Bancroft Manor.

 

 

4 thoughts on “The Journey Started Somewhere

  1. Reblogged this on MY ENDURING BONES and commented:

    I’m participating in a great on line writing workshop that was created by Heather Blakey of the Soul Food Café . This is my response to the first prompt. If you’d like to share in the adventure check out the link provided in my post:

    Like

  2. Pingback: Claim Residency on the Bancroft Estate | The World of Georgina McClure

  3. Pingback: The Journey Begins – The Bancroft Manor and Estate

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