%date 130906 00:00
The emptiness of such a building couldn't be characterized as odd. It was almost assumed. There was nothing strange about such a place lacking in spirit and soul. Wet walls lined the exterior of it's contenance and moss grew from every crevice, spreading itself thin, creating a moist texture to perfectly compliment the damp air. Air that hung from the ceiling afraid to let go, afraid of falling to the floor that threatened disintegration to all those foolish enough to challenge it. Tired of the prolonged existance that nobody asks for; signing letters to both Heaven and Hell, curious about vacancy. If halls could tell tales, they'd talk of titanic banquets Time had forgotten; Of tea time gatherings with ghosts who once walked on similar planes. The very light that once hosted such events was now outcast, fled from such scences disgracefully, leaving the dingy truly dark. It was the image of a once beatiful woman who had lost all she kept dear, now not only the embodiment of all she hoped to veil but also the reflection.