ErisEkaterina

Walking around the castle, I touch the walls and think of how it was like before. When torches burned brightly in brackets, and fires casted warmth all around. When people rushed around busily, each hurrying to their destination. Where Kings of old sat upon thrones, with chests of gold that gleamed. Where minstrels sang praises of many, to entertain their King. Now nothing of such remains, and all is left to ruin. An ancient receptacle, left to the hands of time. The torches put out, the fireplaces stone cold. Desolate and empty, lies the hallways, Dark and musty, lies the rooms. The gardens are bare, the moat is empty, The stones