The Dove & Despondence
Times stands still in a house like this. The grey claws back from the spackled walls, giving voice to disrepair. Whatever lived here once is long gone now. The stairs stand askance, a weak structure that leads to nowhere. All expectation of footfall is in the past. All that is left of life is a nook of upturned chairs, its shadows that dance against harsh lights. Enter here, through the warm wooden door, and leave all warmth behind. Who goes there, out, in this cold? Eyes of crimson, so white of coat. Fluttering through the ramparts, a scion of light alights on the skeletal remains of the stairs. "I will build my home here, away from the sun." "Away from life?" "A life away from a life. In these dark recesses, I am luminescence itself." "The sane don't go building foundations in tombs of silence." "And tombs don't come to life at the flutter of a wing." "You challenge me?" "So what if I do?" "I've s...
