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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.