***
She wandered the castle ruins. The breeze brought with it what sounded like the distant murmur of voices. She settled on a pile of stones, listening to them.
The stones exuded warmth borrowed from the day's sun. She touched them, the heat soaking into her fingertips. If she could just make out the words, a story would be told.
Pictures from long ago flashed through her mind's eye. The pictures flipped through like a shuffled deck of cards until they slowed, each card a frozen snapshot of a point in time. Fractured sentences and fleeting emotions followed. One stood out. The most insistent one.
He watched as she tilted her head to one side, seemingly listening to his silent plea. Thousands of years had passed and he was used to silence. He moved through time like a forgotten and unimportant memory. He had been important once. He had been loved. But now...he was silent. He approached her and she edged away, making room for him beside her. A sliver of hope pushed its way into his heart.
He sat and began to tell his story...
4 comments:
What did he say? The stage is set, the picture in my minds eye and the narrators voice established!
I'm ready!
XoxDebi
Thank you for stopping by, Debi! This is stream of consciousness writing, for sure. We'll see what becomes of it :)
I had a strange dream at the weekend. Got up in the early hours and scribbled it down. Now I don't know what to do with it! Perhaps I'll post it as a blog.
Go for it, Carol!
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