StoriesThere's a story in every tear we cry, in every drop of rain that falls on our shattered souls. We never want to know the endings; we never want to relive them. But, of course, it's not their fault. It's never their fault...
SymphonyRain, perfect for increasing the ambience or melancholy of any given moment, falls within the almost liquid blackness of the night, tapping its tuneless melody onto the glass roof of the White Hall. So named for its white awnings and beams, the glass castle stands like a beacon amidst the dark. One might ask why I - a narrator of the humblest kind - may stop whatever it was that I was doing beforehand to tell you of the happenings of this shimmering place. One might wonder why I would care about a deserted castle of glass and white oak. One would be right to wonder for once this was a place of enchantment. Once, it lived.
The Paper Tree SapphireEyedStranger 5 4 Dependence: White Noise SapphireEyedStranger 12 2