Impermenant Structures

There was much activity on the street that afternoon. Earth movers, cranes, bulldozers, and other machines of destruction were gathered together to consummate the demise of the Willowby house.

The home was the oldest in the neighborhood. At one time a shining jewel, it now bore none of its original charm, and had been reduced to little more than an unsafe eyesore. It was large by today's standards, an old Victorian home that had been in the Willowby family for three generations. It had remained unowned since the mid-sixties when Horus had died, and even then hadn't been painted or renovated for some time beforehand. There had been rumors of squatters living there on and off for a period of time, the only tell-tale sign having been a small upstairs fire that left a visible hole in the roof, which was never repaired. The water and smoke damage accelerated the deterioration of the already weakened structure, and it worsened as rain and snow gained entrance in the ensuing years.

The house had bore witness to many events. Multiple births and deaths, numerous holidays, both joyous and tumultuous, and a plethora of human dramas. Now it was all to end. I stood watching as the demolition ball slammed into the house-knocking cement, pipes, and wood-sending pieces to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

In the house across the street, the Mantle children were excitedly completing a house of cards, hours in the making.

Donna was putting up the very last card when the ground shook.

Ray Fracalossy