The building sat on the rocks; a large, dilapidated box by the sea. As I moved closer in search of shelter I could see it was a mansion. Or at least it had been. Now the bottom was rotted out, the bricks faded and rusted metal littered the surrounding rocks. The bridge of the roof was cluttered by flapping, squawking seagulls. The whole place reeked of them. Even so, if would have to do. I was far from home, lost, half-starved. I needed shelter, even if it meant a stinking, broken shack, slowly drowning in the sea.
you can interpret this short, simple piece in any way you like...
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