Echoes in the Stones
Another echo drifting through this void, as I do, lost to Time. The echoes pluck at me, fingers on harp-strings. I vibrate, remembering.
I do not know if that call is real, although sometimes I imagine it is his voice. I have none with which to answer, and there are no Songs here between the worlds, beyond Time. Not even the music of pain.
Here, I could know everything that was and everything that will be, if I chose to. I know that his memory will live on far beyond the bounds of the time and place where I once loved him. His name will resonate across the ages, across worlds.
I must learn to forget, and be forgotten.
I do not know how.
Once, I thought to find my way home. How foolish. The Stones will not let me go.
#writing #fiction @ellowrites The prologue of my novel, Season of the Wild Hunt