• Sunken into a hillside overgrown with withered weeds was a one room house- if you could call it such. It was a dank place with shutters that were discolored, misshapen, and falling off it’s hinges. Vines curled and made themselves one with the house on it’s Western side, giving off the look that the house was actually growing out of the hill. If anyone had wanted to leave or enter this place, the door would cause the most disastrous of obstacles- you would have to heave unto it to make it budge(surely enough whomever tried this would get a rainfall of dirt and grime). It was weathered shut. Although the door was like this, there was indeed a man sitting, just as sunken as the house, inside. His eyes were that of strewn(ruddy?) water- brown in it’s shallows, but if you looked to the depths, they were most certainly the darkest shade of blue. These eyes held no emotion as they bore down onto his shoe laded(?) feet. A hole showing the entirety of his rather large, scraggled, big toe had made itself at home on his right foot. A toenail that was much too long and so cracked that it looked to be unhealthy, looked to be the cause of this catastrophe. The man continued to stare unblinkingly down at his gnarled toe; you would almost have believed him dead hadn’t he reached down a hand that was, mind you, as dirty as the rest of the livings, and scraped his toenail. As it was proven that he couldn’t just scrape off the yellow colour from his toe, one thought popped into his head, “when did my feet become so dirty?”.