An Epitaph of Reality

A gentle breeze wracked through the remains of Crotus Prenn, carrying the soft folds of Sally's fine dress with it. The disheveled nurse sat in a peaceful quiet, aside from the occasional caw of the little feathered ones that always seemed to infest her Realm. She held an ornate frame between frail hands, the only hint of recognition that tore it apart from any other picture frame littered throughout the asylum being the intricate filigree on it. She relied simply on memory to tell the contents of the photograph inside, but yet the details of her face were the one thing Sally Smithson retained, she'd lost the little humanity she had left, the hope of normalcy was long gone, the only thing she had left were her distant memories. And that was enough to keep her going.


A subtle tug disturbed the disheveled woman from her mournful recollection, sightless eyes peering out through the broken walls of Crotus Prenn. The tug was not an unfamiliar one, just simply less familiar than the wretched tug she had when the four intruders came for an welcomed time.

The question of who in their right mind would want to come visit a silly woman came to her mind. She had no wisdom left, she doubted she had much to begin with, but that was beyond the point. Why were they here? Had she underperformed again? She couldn't recall.


Sally didn't move from her spot on one of the soiled beds, but rather placed her last treasure next to leg. She was silent and in waiting, for what, she could only find out.

Best she let fate find her rather than she find it.