Beneath the pale shroud of dawn, a single lantern flickered atop the cliff, pulse-like in its solitude. The keeper, a silhouette against the first light, heard stories whispered by the sea breeze— tales of ships lost to time and shores unseen. He scribbled these tales, not in ink, but in the language of light and shadow.
Climb the TowerIn the margins of his notebook, where equations met their untimely demise, lay a landscape of dreams. Dragons curled around theorems, while stars danced between the lines of prose. Each doodle was a rebellion against order, a vivid testament to the imagination's refusal to be contained.
Flee the PageBeneath the old oak's sprawling arms, a carousel once spun, colors vibrant against the gray of memory. Now, the horses stand still, their eyes wide in eternal expectation. The laughter of children echoes, though none are left to hear, woven into the rust of the carousel's ornate frame.
Ride Again