Tiny Tale: Hall.

Standing all by it's lonesome looking weather beaten, sad and lonely at the bottom of a steep hill, parallel to the hairpin bend in the road that continued on towards a small village. In it's heyday the hall was a hive of activity serving as a scout and community hall sadly over the years it was left to rot. All utilities were disconnected, the corrigated iron roof, guttering and downpipes were rusting away badly leaking and blocked by leaves and small branches. The weatherboards were twisted, split, warped and rotten some falling to the ground. The paintwork is blistered, peeling and fading so badly that you couldn't see what colour the paint was. Every door was damaged and every window was smashed and glass scattered all around crunching under foot. The interior looked like a bomb had been set off because every single fixture, furnishing and floor covering in the kitchen, dining room, canteen, bathroom and toilet were vandalized or stolen and obscence graffiti covered every surface. It's a real mess.

Two young people from the small village came jogging up the road, stopped outside the hall, walked down the narrow uneven path to the front door had a captain cook inside the said to each other, "what a mess and both vowed on the spot to renovate the hall to it's original glory and be used again as a community centre".

Twelve months later after a lot of hard work replacing the rusted corrigated iron roof, guttering, downpipes, rotten weatherboards, smashed windows, damaged doors and given a fresh coat of paint on the outside it looked brand new again. Shiny new fixtures, furnishings and floor coverings were installed in the kitchen, toilet, bathroom, dinning room, canteen and given a fresh coat of paint to cover the obscence graffiti the inside looked brand new to. All was now ready for the grand opening in a few days time.

The night before the grand opening a fully loaded fuel tanker lost control on this windy rainy night on the way down the slippery steep hill, jackknifed slid along on it's side through the hairpin bend showering sparks and debris in every direction. With a groan the prime mover broke free from the fully loaded fuel tanker that was spraying fuel like a fountain on the road and surrounding paddocks from a hole punctered in it by a large tree branch. Ignited by the sparks the fuel tanker caught fire and exploded in a ball of flame and thick smoke just before smashing headlong into the newly renovated hall burning it to the ground. (c) 2010 Windsmoke.