Sometimes there was a screaming inside her, raging against all that was and longing for all that could have been. She heard it as if it were in the far distance, a tinny, fragile echo.
Carefully, quietly and quite deliberately she patrolled those hidden corridors and took each big solid oak door and firmly pulled it shut. Taking the large ornate key from the chain around her graceful neck she systematically made sure each was locked before moving on.
A Lovely Poet
1 week ago