A lone house sites on a hill, some spare shrubs surround it. There’s a white picket fence, cached with dust but still well mended. Its posts echo the hills rolling beneath. Everything is gentle and nothing seems hard. Why there’s a two-story tower in the middle of the plain...wait, maybe it’s not the middle. From where you are, the plain totally surrounds you. It looks like you could walk miles in either direction and still be nowhere nears its edges. The middle then must be somewhere, but you can’t be sure it’s where you are and where this building is. The building appears to have just the one door and two windows and no apparent purpose. Maybe if there were a horse tied up out back, or at least some semblance of people having been here. To find out, you might just have to go in and see for yourself.
that what writing is all about
It's about a good story, it is about the draw of the unknown, and the excitement of discovery.