Tom Thinks

Dead ends as dry as dust.
Bones, fragmented and strewn across the lawn.
A fairy who is long past her prime, lazily floats along leaving a trail of dark smoke behind her.
The sun shines but it is not seen, hidden behind clouds of lost hopes and dreams.
The air smells of old cookies and rotten fruit.

"This is the place lost to us long ago" says the disembodied voice.

Tom could care less, he looks around the unfamiliar surrounding. The scorched earth, the dark clouds, the countless horrors around him, and he thinks to himself; "Did I remember to lock the front door?"