Reread the final paragraphs of “There Will Come Soft Rains,” in which one lone wall stands after fire has destroyed the house. Think about the feeling this imagery has created for both the reader and the house. Using the story starter that follows, write a continuation of the narrative that shows what happens next. Use imagery and deliberate sentence structure to emulate Bradbury's style. Consider writing an alternative resolution. Be sure to:E1.10(A)

“Today is August 5, 2026, today is August 5, 2026, today is…” the lone wall kept repeating over and over. In the distance, a figure emerged and began to approach, silhouetted against the smoldering remnants of a world long gone. It was a child, small and hesitant, as light drifted through the ashen haze, illuminating the crumbled yard filled with blackened memories. The wall watched, the only vestige of a once bustling home that knew laughter, warmth, and the gentle hum of daily life.

As the figure drew closer, the wall could feel a flicker of recognition in its concrete frame, phantom echoes of conversations and comfort. The child stepped into the clearing, bare feet brushing against the cool earth still tinged with soot, and knelt by the ruins, her wide eyes reflecting the glimmers of a sky streaked with orange and violet.

“Where did you go?” she whispered, her voice small and fragile, like the wings of a bird caught in a tempest. The wall trembled, resonating with longing, yearning to answer, to encapsulate the stories engraved within its very structure. It remembered the warm bid of “goodnight” that floated through open windows, the laughter of birthday parties echoing through the hall, the rhythmic patter of feet scurrying to breakfast. All had vanished into the all-consuming silence of the fire.

The child traced her fingers along the blackened bricks, the charred surface warm under her touch, each scar marking a memory lost. The wall, imbued with the essence of the home it once embraced, felt an odd connection, a flicker of hope ignited in the bleakness. “I’m here,” she murmured, a smile breaking through her desolation, illuminating her face like morning sun breaking through clouds. And though the house was rubble and ash, the wall perceived her presence as a soft glow, a flicker of life amidst the ruins, a promise of rebirth.

Day after day, she returned, bringing with her the lightness of childhood—tangles of wildflowers, snippets of old songs, stones polished smooth by years of rivers whispering their secrets. She created a new rhythm, a soft cadence that danced through the charred remains, and the wall absorbed her spirit, drawing strength from her resilience. It whispered to her in its own silent language, binding her to the echoes of yesterday.

Then came the rain, gentle droplets, tapping like a symphony against the earth. Each drop washed away a fragment of sorrow, rejuvenating the land, pulled from the earth’s depths, mingling with the essence of what had been. The wall felt alive once more, the water trickling through crevices, carrying whispers into the air. Maybe, just maybe, this was not the end. This was the beginning of soft rains nurturing the soil, the promise of growth where destruction had claimed dominion.

In time, seeds would take root, rising toward the light, a tapestry of greens and golds blanketing the sorrowful landscape. The child would stand in her newfound garden, laughing as pink petals swirled around her like delicate butterflies. For in this desolate place where a house once stood, a new chapter began, written in the annals of resilience and hope, held together by the steadfast memory of a wall that dared to dream.

“Today is August 5, 2026,” it would eventually proclaim, “and today, life returns.”