The topic for this week's edition of Four Line Friday Prose is: the installation.
Have a happy weekend everybody :)
Hidden deep in the decaying woods of Pucario the plain grey building lurks, patiently awaiting its next visitor. There are thick, greedy vines grasping at its walls, rotting leaves fill its gutters, and twisted weeds choke its walkways. The front door is rusted shut, never to open again to anything less than the hand of God. But that is of no concern to the man who is approaching slowly from the north, for he knows where the real entrance lies.