Mystic Transmission #47B
The old grandfather clock chimed at an unexpected hour. It wasn't midnight; it wasn't a time at all. It just wasn't.
ReturnThe old grandfather clock chimed at an unexpected hour. It wasn't midnight; it wasn't a time at all. It just wasn't.
ReturnI saw a bluebird today on the mantel, where dust likes to gather. Its song carried words I couldn't quite remember.
ContinueThe coffee was bitter, but not in taste. It held remnants of yesterday's dreams melting like snowflakes among grains of sugar.
Write AnotherSpilled ink traced the outlines of a memory half-formed, caught between the edges of a world unseen and a whisper's breath.
Reflect