Lifeless Sleep of Crimson Tears
As you push open the heavy door, darkness awaits you. The cavernous room, lit by only a few flickering flames, holds many secrets. The sweet aroma of insence bids you further in. Across the room, wind from the open window terrorizes bound pieces of parchment, threatens the life of the flames, and scatters the forlorn petals of many roses. The closer you draw near, the more you see in the pool of soft light. Words scrawled across the pages, rivers of wax flowing along the rough surface of the table, and drops of blood among the beautiful chaos. Making your way around the table, you hear the crunch of broken glass beneath your feet and the soft splash of water; a vase, spilt and broken on the floor. Slowly, you take the seat at the table, closing your eyes as you open past the cover to read what has been written.
“These poems written in times before. In times of sorrow and times of joy. Be sure before you start. Beware of what you read. These are the words of my heart. Feelings you may have never wanted to know.”
As you turn the page, you look up, having heard the swishing of wings. You find yourself staring into the wise and knowing eyes of an owl.
My Blurty Journal
Email: lifeless_sleep_of_crimson_tears@hotmail.com
