I gaze upon the clan ruins, abandoned by all except the ghosts. Those same ghosts whose whispers are carried upon the breeze. The ancient castle on a tongue of land, land painted by the pallete of the 40 shades of green.
You entreat me to stay in the humble cottage, your voice like the Sirens of old. The whiskey you serve is pleasant upon my tongue, a drink fit for the palate of the pirate Queen. As you tell me the stories of the days past I wonder if you are a kindly soul or a phantom that bodes ill for me.
Weariness begins to overtake me and I see you have laid me a pallet on your floor. As I lie down my lips speak a soft prayer that I might awaken on the morn.
@ChampagneOnIce Thank You. When I read the challenge words posted by @Fungirlmmm I decided to write something different from the obvious. I am glad you liked it.
