Somewhere deep, nestled amidst the whirls of mercury, lies a distant scream. Winds scatter the delicate strands of fate, weaving patterns only their creators can discern, through echoing halls.
In the silence, a whisper lingers. Locked in a perpetual embrace, the moments unfold, spiraling into an unbidden dusk. Chasing shadows, they dance cruelly, thus mocking.
Here, footsteps had traced unseen stories, upon paths that never were, never will. Echoes hum in ghostly lamentation, under skies pathetically blue.