Nightingale
Bio
In writing, each letter becomes a symbol, each word a note, and each story the lyrics of a song to be sung to the rose.
More of my work under the pen name Nocturnea at:
www.triaprima.co
—— Nightingale
Stories (17/0)
Reparation
He laid there in anguish. The prisoner’s sighs of agony echoed loudly in his head. The sounds rippled through his space and pain skipped with glee within the layers of his skin. His iron chains felt like extensions of his extremities and their added length felt heavy upon the burden of his misery. How long has he been there and why, he knew not. It was only a few sleeps ago that he had realized he was a suffering entity, a being in this narrow and exceedingly hot dimly lit space. An overwhelming feeling of having been from somewhere else had recently begun to take shape, little by little, slumber after slumber.
By Nightingale3 years ago in Futurism
