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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.