They were the trails we've long forgotten, those paths older than words, younger than dreams. Sometimes I feel like I can hear their whispers in the wind, like echoes calling out from a kaleidoscope world behind our knowing eyes. Toss a pebble and listen; who knows what secrets you might unlock.
You remember that old fountain we used to visit? It had this weird mark on it—some kind of hieroglyphic, I guess. I’d swear it used to hum a tune, a melody wrapped in mist and moonlight. Ask anyone who’s been there after dark. It'll give you goosebumps just listening to it, as if the stones themselves were sharing tales of sunken ships and wandering stars.
Some folks say there's an answer to everything buried deep within those riddles. If you can crack them, you're golden. But humor me this: what if the answer simply leads you further down the rabbit hole? Ever thought about that? Dive in and see for yourself.
Retreat to the memory Phantom Narratives