I wrote this story this afternoon. It needs an ending, but I can't find think of one.

How should I end it?

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There was a rock and a set of blueprints, and a house was built upon the foundation of the rock using this set of blueprints.

The house over the years proved to be of solid construction, withstanding earthquakes and storms, wind and water, and even fire. Those safe and warm within its walls never ceased to be concerned for those who were en route to it, and wished them a safe journey to its doors and welcomed them at the gate of the fence upon their arrival with thanks and good cheer.

At times repairs were needing to be made… the beams would sag and termites would eat away at its foundations, but timely repairs were always made by those who lived in the house and loved the house, always in accordance with the original blueprints. Styles of furniture and drapery and paint & wallpaper would come and go, but the house in its layout and design would always remain the same.

People would come to visit and to explore its secret passages, and at in the great dining hall would partake in discussions of the great ideas well into the night.

Despite its great age, the house was structurally as sound as the day it was built by the tireless efforts of the original men who knew and loved the Architect, and knew His intentions and were loyal to him and his blueprints. As these men passed on, so they passed to others the charge to care for this house and to be loyal to the blueprints and to the design from the mind of the Architect.

-- Emerald (emerald1@cox.net), January 26, 2003

Answers

THE END (of the world?)

-- J. F. Gecik (jfgecik@hotmail.com), March 02, 2003.