Echoes of Devil Harbor

The tide whispered secrets in the language of lost sailors. Old lanterns, flickering in the mist, casting shadows on crumbling docks.

"There, beyond the whispering pines, the devil is your neighbor. Or was it the harbor?"

Do you remember the time the sky turned orange? A molten sunrise sat lazy on the horizon while seagulls spun tales.

Behind the broken wheelbarrow lies a forgotten key. Do you see it? Shimmering truths at the bottom of a broken well, like aging silver whispers.

Starlit paths abandoned, echoing laughter from alleyways unseen. Vessels drift, chained by time to infinity.