Writing Spot

This is the story of a street.

On one side of the street are three houses. The North House is the biggest house. It has a long stretching yard of fresh cut grass in summer and diamond glistening snow in winter. The yard is spotted with gleaming azure ponds and the sounds of birdsong. The North House has magnificent gardens with statuesque maples and flourishing flowers of every colour imaginable.

The Middle House has beautiful, landscaped fields of gold and rolling green hills. The yard has winding paths with tall trees and vast skies where eagles soar. As you move along the paths southward, you are dazzled by foliage changes from great oaks to lingering palms.

At one of the gates to the Middle House stands a tall, proud and welcoming woman.

The South House is a myriad of warm beaches and a passionate kaleidoscope of foliage. It has a yard full of incredible historic monuments dotted with curious cactii amid endless calming deserts and gleaming ocean shores.

The North House has less people than the other houses. Some of those people have lived here longer than anyone. They are proud role models of respect for others and for the beauty of nature that surrounds them. Some came later to establish new beginnings. Still others came more recently, drawn to the safety and beauty within the North House’s walls.

Most recently, a group of friends arrived to the North House from the house across the street—the one with the welcoming path full of sunny, friendly sunflowers. They came to find safety from a deadly, piercing burn of betrayal while their leader travelled with limitless integrity and resolve.

The North House’s leaders work hard to keep the house strong and safe. The North House’s has fought many battles against evil and won. The North House has even fought battles for the Middle House and, as true neighbours do, has gone out of its way to help in times of need.

The three houses share common values and respect. The people love to visit each other and share the experience of the beauty and freedoms they share while honouring their differences with humour and dignity.

Since the three houses have different gardens, they share what they grow for the good of the street. In fact, to be fair to one another, they have The Contract to control the flow of their wares. They understand that times change, gardens change, and sometimes those contracts need tending.

Sadly, there is a Poison that is hurting people, killing people. The entire neighbourhood wants to fix The Poison and works hard to do so.

UNTIL ONE DAY …

A Despot moved in to the Middle House.

The Despot wears a smile but it is not a smile of warmth. It is a smile of betrayal to those who despise it and of cunning to those who are spellbound.

And the neighbourhood watches in shock.

And The Despot wreaks chaos and confusion with no regard for the people who live in the Middle House. People who are vulnerable are destroyed. People who are in turmoil lose control of their bodies . People who fought for progress live in fear of who they are…

… and who they can love.

And The Despot laughs.
And The Despot lies.

And The Despot throws unjustified tantrums at the leader Sunflower House and insults the leader of the North House in ways that would be chastised on any playground.

And the disgusting, loud, betrayer Despot uses The Poison as an excuse to burn The Contract.

And the disgusting, loud, betrayer Despot has the gall to believe that it is in charge of the whole street.

And the proud and welcoming woman at the gate of the Middle House sheds a tear.

And the people from the North House and the South House watch through the cracks in the fence posts as their beloved neighbours sit in the yard in stunned silence.

They look up with shaded eyes and embarrassed expressions and utter words of apology.

And yet, they are mostly silent.

And that silence is the most frightening thing of all.