At first, my castle stood tall and beautiful on the edge of a great cliff, with smooth strong bricks protected by a blanket of mighty green vines. It shone in the sun and gleamed in the moonlight, glistened in the rain and dazzled in the snow. Those with the gift would say it was the inspiration for every princess story ever written. They would be so far from the truth.
Next, my castle was a prison. It stood tall and cold on the edge of a great cliff, alone and isolated. Inside it was like a forest full of ice that could kill you if you stayed there too long. There was no red carpet, no luxurious bed, just the pain and knowledge that there was no way to escape. It felt like being suffocated, but death never came, just suffering for eternity.
Finally, my castle was my dungeon. It never stood strong anymore, instead the walls were crumbling in the corners. It never felt cold now, instead the floor burned my feet the longer I stood there. It wasn't even beautiful, not after all those years of savage decay. My castle was collapsing, yet I still don't know if escaping it was worthwhile, because our castles follow us everywhere.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
The Stories of an Immortal
ПригодиRandom short stories about different adventures in a variety of places, times and situations, from the perspective of a time travelling immortal.
