He dropped the red pen and watched the sun set. Whatever dreams passed through his wandering thoughts, he did not cling to, and with the same subtlety by which they came, they freely left. The sun descended into the forest to whatever adventures that old god would enjoy before rising reborn on the morrow. For now, the night had sway, and the darkness ruled. A tug upon a small chain, and his little lamp illumined his desk. He renewed his work, correcting the mistakes of his young pupils. His tired eyes grew blurry, and he longed for rest and sleep.
At the End of the Day
Tale Told 