The many great trees towered to the heavens creating an archway. A corridor. Motionless despite the slight wind. Obscuring the starless sky. At the end of the tunnel, a gateway with twisted iron forming its body. Beyond that all that could be seen is a collection of grey stone, eroded somewhat by time. The trunks of the trees twisted and spiraled like the iron of the gate – as if formed of cotton. The trees all thrive here. Nothing else lives. Beneath the trees; a dead bark. No footprints lined this pathway. No human visitor had walked this path in many a moon though the thick bark was disturbed; by the light wind perhaps? Some of the browned bark appeared somewhat out of place in this untouched labyrinth.
Preceding the path of oak stands a sepulcher protruding from the earth. The grey stone that constitutes its body is worn away and scuffed yet its essence; its many angles and vertices remain strong and unmarred. The entrance, an arch formed in the rock. Nothing can be seen through the doorway. A void is formed from which no light dares to emit. The columns either side of the entrance are slightly cracked in place yet still stand proud as if marking a shrine. The step leading to the tomb is clearly marked and used.
Imprinted to the right of the walked upon step, a body. A man. White as snow. Cold as the unforgiving stone that will surrounds him. He will appear suspended in mid air by his once strong muscular arms, his body too is muscular but will be weakened. Lost. His hair will be dark, hanging to his shoulders. His chestnut eyes will be closed. Eternally.
YOU ARE READING
A Book of Shadows
DiversosWelcome to a world where nothing is what it seems. From now on question everything; trust nothing you read, feel or know. The pages just might be deceiving you. Watch your eyes. You might just get lost between the lines.
