The Distant Whispers
The glass bell shatters not with a crash, but with a sigh, a long, exhaled note that hangs in the stillness of the archive room like a ghost refusing to leave, and you are there, standing in the center of the circular chamber, your hands empty, your heart heavy with the weight of a secret you have carried for three hundred years, while the dust motes dance in the shafts of pale, dying sunlight...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews