The Distant Promise
The fire roars. It eats the oak. It eats the night. You sit in the dark. You are old. Your bones ache. The pain is a constant hum. It lives in your spine. It lives in your teeth. You do not flinch. You do not move. You watch the flames. They dance. They scream. They are beautiful. They are terrible. This is the Hall of Whispers. It is deep. It is cold. The air is thick. It smells of wet stone....
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 10 Visualizações 0 Anterior