He watched the windy day from his crumbling tower. The long grass of the wide field bowed and swayed like waves of the ocean, glimmering green and yellow under the waning sun. Winter would be coming soon, and though it was only a little past noon, there was no warmth in the day. The light too felt dim, the colors dull. He felt cold. Pulling his cape tighter about his shoulders, he turned now toward the West and the hills, their rising curves growing bluer and bluer in the distance. Soon, they would be covered in snow. Time passed in uncounted hours for the watcher. Now the sun was nearly nestled in the earthy bosom of the hills, its bright disk, shining through the clouds, nearly touching the tips of the distant peaks. He knew he shouldn’t look, but kept glancing at that brilliant star. It touched the earth. Sinking, falling from heaven, those soft, round hills slowly subsumed its light. The sun was asleep, the world was cold, and the watcher left his high turret and descended back into his moss covered keep.
Winter Sunset
Tale Told 