Record:
Sun Oxen Year &
¾ , Eighthday
Around Noon
It was when I
pressed my hand on the crystal ball that I saw.
It was dark.
The moon cast her
luminous strings, twisting the forest and filling the land with
shadow and twilight. A night breeze made the trees dance, sending
their leaves to the hungry soil.
There was light
coming from the top tower of the castle. A dim candle melting by the
window, shaped pale outlines in the room, making the old wooden
furniture look like oddly dressed tree-men. Inside the colors of gold
and black painted curtains and sheets. A great chandelier hanged from
the ceiling and claret walls carried portraits of insignificant dead
folk. Intoxicating odors of the perfumes of lustful women lingered in
the air, permeating decadent aristocracy.