Skip to content
Viking Blood
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The end.