The Last Paragraph

This is the last paragraph from a novel/short story I started a few years ago. I had spent a whole summer reading William Faulkner novels and the words just flew out of my mind onto the page. I had dreamed about the opening scene, but after a few weeks the words stopped coming and life, like it always does, got in the way. Good night.

Brushing away the cobwebs meant reliving memories long since dormant, as James meandered his way through ghostly coverlets. There, in the back corner sat a familiar form; father's old roll top desk. James paused a moment before tearing off the dust laden linen like scar tissue from an old war wound. This, for James, was the beginning of a long journey back to reality and the path he had long put aside. “Where would the weeds now laying before me lead?” he thought to himself, as the dark stained grain of the roll top faced him squarely now like his father had done so many years earlier.