Reblogged from Of Glass and Paper in response to this week’s photo prompt...
She crouched behind a short spiky bush, and waited for a sound. There was none, not even the usual discrete footfall of small creatures in the dark. A hawk could be seen, circling silently around the dark silhouette of the tower.
“So,”she thought,”This is where you died, so long ago even the stones have forgotten your name, the colour of your hair, the strength of your arms…”
Continue reading Honoré’s story at Of Glass and Paper
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
This is nice indeed
LikeLike