At the Library
“Not everything in the library is catalogued,” I whispered.
“What?” he asked.
“There are stories that are told only in whispers, books that are given no titles, and rooms you’ve never entered. There are stories in this library you’ve never been on.”
Before the Mirror
I don’t know you. Why are you here? Why are you staring at me? I admit, you are familiar now that I take a closer look. Did we meet a long time ago? Was it in a dream? Half a memory is left—was it you who killed him?
In the Dream
A daisy blooms in a field, and its petals glisten with dew. The daisy grows into a tree, and its shadow stretches over the town. The darkness never lifts. The dew rolls off the white petals and washes the people.
At the Library
“Shhhh.”
Tale Told 