Milton Bollanbane
Joined March 2021
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Oubliette
I sit in the white tower which commands the northern end of the gardens, and which has contained my whole existence for as long as I can remember. The sun’s warmth does not reach here, it remains cold all year round, and a thin layer of snow is gently falling upon the hard ground where it will lay unchanged for most of the year. I think I probably once wandered between those desolate oaks I see out there, climbed among the strange stones nearby, and circled around the black, noiseless ponds. But I only remember watching through the window. Nor do I recall venturing into the forest beyond the garden, but I imagine it is immeasurably deep and infinitely decaying.
By Milton Bollanbane3 years ago in Horror