There once was a man in the tower.
His eyes were as dull as rusted iron wasting away at the bottom of the sea. His beard was white as the frozen abyss of the North.
One day, the man stood at the top of the tower. He shouted to the gods, but no one answered. Only a myriad of endless echoes, each with a different voice answering back. Each voice was his own.
Why was he stuck in this tower of his own creation? What was he to do?
The days went by like a razor, scraping the edges of rugged skin. The nights dwarfed the bleak solstice more than a mountain dwarfed the trees.
The man was trapped in the tower until the end of his days. Years later, only his dust was left, but the tower remained.
Bodies may be temporary, but dreams are ever-lasting.
About the Creator
Ardere Lyons
Hey there! I am an avid writer and lover of all things poetry, literature, and art. I primarily focus on short stories and poems, but I've written two novels and I'm working on another!
I write anything from High Fantasy to Cyberpunk Sci-Fi!
Keep reading
More stories from Ardere Lyons and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.