The House Time forgot

The House Time forgot

Once upon a place there was a House that Time forgot. It had not been the intention of the House. It had merely been overlooked. When Time expanded through space, he’d stopped short just before reaching the little red brick house with the evergreen garden.  

It wasn’t long before Time realized his mistake. He came to lay claim on the House. But the little red brick house with the pointy roof wouldn’t have it. It refused to be changed.

All through the assault of Time, the House kept its windows shut and restrained its wood from settling. It told the Wind not to blow in its garden or tickle its shingles. Time retreated while keeping a watchful eye on the little red brick house and its quiet components. Not a single leaf ruffled in the evergreen garden.

Eventually Time grew bored and dropped his stakeout. The Wind came rushing in jingling the shingles and stroking the grass. The wood creaked and the House opened its windows.

The little red brick house felt relieved and yet it found that it couldn’t settle back. For though it had stopped the advance of Time, it was getting a bit lonely. Birds had come to the garden once. They had left when their eggs never hatched. There had been caterpillars too but they had spun themselves into cocoons that never cracked.

The House started to wonder if it was seeing things. For it seemed like the linden trees in the evergreen garden could barely hang on to their branches. The violets were drooping on their stems and even the water elder hedge had a despondent look about it. The sorry sight of its nearest and dearest was almost enough to make the House lose its mortar. This would never do.

The little red brick house realized it needed to make a change. But to change would be dangerous. It would mean allowing Time to creep inside the shelter of the evergreen garden. Just thinking about it made the windows rattle in their frames. The little red brick house pushed those thoughts aside.

Beyond the garden time passed. The leaves on the trees turned red, gold and brown. The lindens in the garden pretended not to mind being the only green ones left. The oaks outside understood and were kind enough not to say anything about it. Still the little red brick house knew something had to be done.

The House spoke with the Wind, who went to find Time. But by now Time had almost forgotten about the House and garden. He said he did not like to go back to things he’d done before. He thought the old was boring and he’d much rather do something new. The Wind was quite taken aback.

Not knowing how to respond, she went to the roof of the House where she sat down to confer. Only the water elder noticed when she took off again. The Wind had to travel much further to find Time. She found him chasing some children down a street. A clock struck five and they all dashed in different directions. 

For a moment Time stood and wondered where to go. The Wind rushed up to him and pleaded for the little red brick house. But Time snorted ‘You again? I thought I told you I don’t do old.’ As he turned to walk away the Wind spoke up and said: ‘How can they be old when you were never there? You’ve never really been inside the House or even the garden. You merely tried and failed.’

Time looked daggers at the Wind. But she didn’t care, she knew she had him now. And so it was that Time came to the little red brick house with the evergreen garden. Still fuming over the Wind’s remarks, Time stepped all through the House and garden with a careless attitude. He didn’t talk to the House nor did he listen. He simply marked his territory and left.

The little red brick house looked around with a mixture of feelings. Change was such a dangerous thing. Already the first tinge of gold had crept in the leaves of the lindens. The water elder broke out in tiny red spots. Butterflies appeared out of nowhere as a few forgotten cocoons finally cracked. The garden seemed so pleased that the House was happy for it in spite of its own trepidations.

It was a joyous afternoon. When night fell the garden went to sleep. The little red brick house stood watch. At the back of the pointy roof a single shingle slipped and fell. There was no stopping it now.