It’s a house destroyed. Not just the building, but the people who once lived there.
Whatever love was there died, and with it, an entire family.
The house didn’t fall apart over night. It took a long time for the real damage to become evident. No maintenance. No caution and care about keeping things up. Then roof tiles began to blow off, the rain began coming in, and the ceilings collapsed. The wood rotted, the drywall fell off the studs in soggy chunks. No safety and no protection from the elements were left.
There is a piano in the corner that used to make music. It is covered in rotted drywall now. Grandchildren used to like to sit and play it. In the sound of the wind blowing through the broken windows, you sometimes can hear an echo of their laughter as they used to play in the grass and ride their bikes in the driveway and climb the trees. Those voices are long gone.
This is a house that sin killed. Hypocrisy. Lies. Selfishness. Pride. It gradually poisoned everyone who lived here. One little bit at a time.
Nobody cared enough to help. Nobody could help in the end. Pride was more powerful than anything. Malice was more powerful than anything. Even more powerful than the God they claimed to serve and believe in. They didn’t say that. They just lived it.
So the wind chimes blow aimlessly in the wind. Nobody ever hears them anymore.