Whenever I’m drowsy, I tell myself a story.
Not one written nor read such as poetry, but one called from memory.
I close my eyes so I may see, I do not speak to listen to the symphony. 36 more words
Ch. 7.2 Another Gift from the Wizard —
Eli continued to creep along the passage of the dungeon. Ten doors down, he came upon a cell with thick metal bars across the front. 657 more words