The Factory

By Amitagni Ghosh

I make my way towards the huge wooden door. It’s overgrown with vines

and slathered with green algae. This was the main entrance to Forever

Chocolate, an abandoned factory that my friends and I would call our

secret hideout. The path to the factory is covered in dried, brown leaves

with a sprinkle of wilted white jasmine. The huge oak tree that once was

one of the town’s biggest treasures now stood leafless and barren. But

tucked beneath the gray woolen sky, there is still a warmth to the factory

that reminds me of a home.

The paint on the soft wooden door inside is deep like a mother’s care for

her child. The flakes peel at random depths showing different sun-baked

hues underneath. In this way, in its flaws it has somehow become more

beautiful.

The hinges on the door creaks as I close it behind me. It’s squeal echoes

through the cross beams that struggle to fight the sagging roof above. The

windows no longer beckon light inside, no longer lift the obscurity that the

walls impose. Instead, they add to the growing sense of damp and dark

that permits the chill wind to penetrate through.

As I wander around in solitude, I see a newly made bird's nest with baby

birds soundly sleeping. They were the most vibrant yellow I’ve ever seen

with the softest accents of white. I walk upstairs as they creek beneath

me. My eyes immediately turn to the carving that I had done on one of the

wooden walls with my best friend. “4lifers” it said. There were old, dirty

and damp clothes on the floor that let out an almost unbearable odor. Not

able to stand it anymore, I ran into one of the bathrooms. The bathroom

was a celebration of white and chrome, but with the half broken mirrors it

wasn’t the most appealing. The sinks looked as though they would fall at

any moment. Water dripped down from one of the taps. The continuous

sound of water dripping after 5 seconds of each drop, tearing the silence

was painful to my ears.

I came back downstairs and walked out the front door of the factory.

Looking back and staring at its height, a feeling of sadness comes upon

me. I rest at the arch of the factory and wonder who could have left this

beautiful building to rot.

By Amitagni Ghosh