Writing Prompt: The house stood as it always had.

Happy Thanksgiving one and all. Taking time for a little writing prompt before the big meal? Excellent. Me too. Always good to get your brain awake before you send it back to sleep with tryptophan. so here we go…

And there we went. I found it interesting. And i will probably wonder about what change is being brought down as I get ready for the big meal. well there are worse things to wonder about I suppose. Hope you have a Happy (and safe) thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 26th: The house stood as it always had.

The house stood as it always had. It stood sentinel over the landscape as if reminding those who lived in the town below that someone was always watching.  In this case that someone was Augustus Anthony Peabody the fifth.  He stood at the window of his office and looked down.  His ancestor Johnathan Augustus Peabody sited the house at the same time as the town was being built.  It commanded the tallest hill.  From this window he watched the town grow from a few optimistic buildings clustered around the crossroads to the small town it became. 

The town tapered off in its growth shortly after the railroad was established.  The rail road brought some newcomers, but most people visited before going on their way.  When the rail road died off, interstates replaced it and still travelers exited the interstate for only a short while before they too continued their journey.  Millersville was a pleasant place to stop, a nice place for lunch or maybe an afternoon of apple picking, but not a place anyone but those born here wanted to stay in for any length of time. While each year a few children grew up and set off on their own, their lives lived elsewhere, enough of them left and came back with spouses to settle down that the numbers barely changed.  Somehow it always seemed to balance out, the population increasing or decreasing by only a handful each year.

The town itself remained much the same.  Augustus knew his view differed little from his ancestors.  In keeping with their small timeless feel, all electric wires were buried instead of lacing through the sky atop tall poles.  Vehicles were modern and the roads were paced with asphalt, but the buildings were the same well-tended shops Johnathan would have been familiar with, even if their contents were foreign.  From where he stood, surveying the town laid out at his feet, Augusts momentarily indulged in the pleasure of the timeless, forgetting that oreos and Doritos were sold in the general store on main street and not just barrels of flour and hogsheads of cheese.  Even with his vantage point the distance was great enough to allow him that indulgence, even if it was only temporary.

He signed softly to himself and let the fantasy go as a large truck lumbered through downtown. Changes were inevitable.  Change was life.  But Millersville’s changes were all mostly superficial.  The railroad line exchanged for the interstate.  The local Inn offering its guests wi-fi instead of free pre-stamped postcards.

But changes were coming that would alter the fabric in more drastic ways.  He glanced back to his desk and the papers that sat atop its gleaming surface.  If he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t time things just right, those pages and the change they represented wouldn’t just cause a small tear in the fabric of Millersville’s life, it would blow a cannon blast straight through it.  Unfortunately, this particular change was unavoidable. God knows, he tried.  Stopping it was beyond his control. All he could do was shepherd it into the least damaging course.

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