I envision a place where time stops, the breeze the only movement other than my own. Faceless voices whisper to me, calling me back to my sinister home. My comfort found in a palace of demise; corpses gathered inside decrepit tombs, awaiting the moment their master beckons them to rise. The sweet odor of death surrounds me, filling my lungs with decay and rot. I find myself at peace here, in this chamber of the dead which time has forgot.
©2022 by The Twisted Libra