The Ruin

It stood on the top of the hill dominating all of its surrounds. Its drawbridge these days lay open spanning with ease the now dry moat. Like a fairy tale fortress it had turrets that soared up high brushing the clouds. Its four towers majestic as blankly, they stared, covering all points of the compass. Slit windows peered out of casements through walls up to six feet thick. The massive double oak doors fifteen feet high and twelve wide stood thrown open allowing glimpses of the enormous courtyard beyond. Battlements led to each round tower that once housed the nobles. Old battered forgotten furniture grandly carved four poster beds. A sword or two lay scattered amidst the clutter and bird dropping. Wide stone staircases meandered curling round and round the walls. A gallery or two dotted here and there perfect hiding places above the hall. Some for musicians to play unseen Their notes floating through the air as below the dancers swept and strutted as the ladies hooped dresses swirled. Long tables once laden with food stood a skiff with broken legs. Wooden pint tankards higgledy piggledy strewn about midst wooden platters. Tattered standards limply lay motionless against walls dotted with scattered torches. The Lord of these lands killed in distant lands leaving an infant son removed to the city by his grieving mother who sought to forget. Now ninety years later his grandson views the devastation of years of neglect and vows to return the castle to the glory of its heydays. After three long years of often brutal work removing shrubbery, moss and decay Life starts to re-emerge Flags flutter gaily high up on the battlements. Chandeliers sparkle and the torches flicker Tables once more groan with a feast of food Happy shrieks of laughter fill the grand hall And one would swear the castle wore a smile, as children played around the buttress's.