A stone hall stretches on for miles, ending at a raised platform where once a throne stood. Bathed in the yellow light of the sun, only shards remain to show the blue and green stained glass that once filled a window, also lost to time. The white stone wall, fallen away ages ago, lays scattered in the overgrowth, the ruins faded from rainwater, snow, and wind but there is still a story to be told. Soft footsteps on shattered stone, rain dripping into shallow puddles; once a king and his court drank, danced, and ate here. Once they plotted war and peace, wed and died; but now only the wind whispers here. Now only the elements call it home. The story is not over though, not yet. Not while the walls still stand.
![](https://maisytellsstories.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/or-less.png?w=473)
maisytellsstories
I'm a writer of almost any genre (I don't promise to be good at all of them). Some days are good, some days are bad but I try to write and post a few times a week. I dream big and I push myself hard.
Leave a comment