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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.