Hindsight
Trouble came because we didn’t waterproof the birdhouse. The paint held up, at first: a child’s pastel palette that drew sparrows and made the tree look festive. Harsh winters stripped the pinks and peeled the blues to graying wood. That’s when the yellow jackets nested. We drowned them. Tossed the house into the backwoods to decay. Now, instead of songbirds, we have spiked-toothed, bat-winged imps. They breed like mad inside the ruined house. Already, they’ve devoured our hens, the barn cats, and beehives. Still, we hear their stomachs growl. We hide behind our weathered walls, holding cleavers to the cracks.
Photo Credit: Mike Bitzenhofer
Just found this one of yours. Loved it.
This is a good one.
Great imagery, for sure. Creepy, yes, especially with the cleavers!
Lisa, I love the images you manage to fit into 100 words! I can see the peeling paint and imagine the reasons for neglect by the people.