bloomtiara 368 Share Posted October 23, 2021 The Scholar’s Thoughts ꧁༒☬༒꧂ ꧁༒☬༒꧂ Down in the damp halls where many lay to ruin, she roamed: unfulfilled. Where mold took hold, and water held control, she lingers; followed by a dull glow. Slowly, she looked skyward. Met with darkness, no sun to be found, for, she was not near the upper ground. Her form grew opaque, ribbons adorning ribs, bound there akin to a noose. She no longer seemed familiar. Not anymore. Shelves upon shelves, cases and boxes, brimmed the place from floor to ceiling. Whence she sat, heels rested upon a skull, with a book in hand. What was my name again? Panic became overwhelming. A rage, an unbelieving. No one was there, Not a soul to remind her. What was it? Oh. Right, That’s who it was. The ichor settled, leaking from her bones. The seams bursted with mist, dissipating the moment they came. That old ball gown, she still adorned. Sleeves were torn. But, weren’t they always? 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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