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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.