A dead past haunted

How do you declare a place… dead? *** I’m towns away but I can smell it, dust on surfaces and mites just growing. A place I no longer want to visit, but memories alone are going. Afternoons of tv and laughs, faded to a foreign land. The very space that once protected me, deprived of the warmest hand. A dead past haunted by the living, an echo chamber of what it was. The host for a new micro-universe, the grieving scene for life’s law. It will never be brought back to life, a museum trapped on its own. Handwritten notes left on the table, extinguished fire on the stove. *** Copyright © Denny K. Schuldt 2026