Sorrow is the texture of old parchment, crumbling beneath the relentless advance of time. It sounds like the hollow echoes of the ocean heard within the conch shell; looks like the marble angel weeping over a child’s grave; tastes like liquor burning its way down your throat and through the vestiges of your memories; and it smells of the stagnant water collecting dead insects inside a broken, abandoned house.
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Author: lotwordsmiths
Hello, there! I'm Toni, and I've been writing and reading primarily fantasy stories most of my life. What really set me on the path to be a writer was my 6th grade English teacher, Mrs. Thomas, who told me she could see me as an author some day. I made Legends of the Wordsmiths to share my stories, and hopefully, (someday), the stories of others, too.!
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