Three Line Tales, Week 179
My chambers used to
resound with the sounds of prayer, celebration, children, love,
battle, firing missiles, death, cries of soldiers dropping from my
unscalable heights.
Now they rumble with my guffaws when tour guides narrate hair-raisingly incorrect
stories about me, when visitors fantasize they are lords and ladies,
when they rush out of a room spooked by one of my pranks.
Then there are the sounds
of my creaky heart and the howls of my masters' souls that are
trapped inside of me just like me.
I had such a similar story to yours! I do despise tour guides trying to portray castles as romantic paradises, when they're so often gory reminders of the evils of mankind!
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