There is someone still alive in that castle, who has watched people die.
The walls are silent with echoes of footsteps long gone, and the air is heavy with secrets. Each window frames a memory—faces of people long gone pressed against glass, pleading for escape.
The survivor moves like a shadow, carrying the burden of countless stories untold.
A single hand scatters seeds into air. Soon, grass grows on the walls, while petals rise against the grey stone, defiant and bright.
Red blooms carry the message to the outer world.
“Who wants to meet me when I step out?”
This is a compelling piece, Reena. Your first sentence is a grabber!
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So glad you found it compelling. Thanks!
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I wonder if this is a challenge? Meet, in what sense?
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Meet and listen to her stories.
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Love the idea of the walls being human.
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Thank you!
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love this 🌹🤗
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Thank you so much!
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