LadySereine

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 ༺♱༻ The brightened sequences. Waltz through a painted ballroom drenched in evening fire, A palace flourished in marble pillars of white hue; Mirroring a teal reflection of delighted desire; Gracious, like a couplet of swans shrouded in blue. View bougainvillaea draped over a Gothic Christian church, Stretched across the divine Romanesque land of flora Pouring over basins of a horizon as lights daubed birch, Reigns of mystic twilight wielding a peaceful aura. Transcendentalist perspectives ignite untouched grass, Of newfound Beauty within clasped forces of the earth; Distinctions of right and wrong left like nails as rustic brass Where thinkers cannot conceive of nature's birth. Sprouted as spotted fungi on logs, Beauty does thrive; Back in elegant corridors, its portraits remain alive. A demeaning conception. Impressionist masterpieces diminished by hateful spew, Condemned due to Plato's will to inquire; His shrieking, thorned branches emerged and

༺♱༻ T'were a mid-winter's eve in Olde-Towne and the buildings were shrouded in thickets of grey fog that blanketed the quiet countryside. The worn cobblestones were slick with moisture and the cold air hung heavy in the twilight. It was a gloomy place where whale oil lanterns perched on frosted posts burned with a soft, subdued glow. Most of the people inhabiting the small settlement were safe inside, cozied up against warm brick hearths, and knew all too well that venturing outside of their homes was foolhardy on a night such as this. Inside of tinted windows, burning coals illuminated in faint hues of yellow, like the eyes of demons. Thick smoke choked out of dirty chimneys and slowly into the darkening sky. Beyond the protective walls of the village, the perilous forest stood black and unending. Pines, oaks, and sycamores fought for supremacy with twisting branches of hardwoods and evergreens. Below the boughs, the forest floor was dead and rotting. The sun rarely found its way

༺♱༻ London was a sleepy town in the winter notorious for its melancholic skies. The clouds and the cold were forever stalking from above, awaiting their next victim to harvest. Sub-zero flurries raged onward and it became an endless battle against the snow. Midnight swamped the horizon like stampeding black stallions and the murk swallowed the warmth from the lamps. It was desolate and no automobile lined the curbs. Transportation was scarce even when buggies were an option, but they had only been accessible to the wealthy. Many preferred the idea of being socked in, not having a care about getting out of bed to get to the factory nor leaving to run errands. No one had dared scale the frozen lands anyhow, not even the most courageous of men. It was as if the kiss of frostbite would come upon immediate contact with the skin and warp the body until total paralysis. Down the way was a paved road leading to a secluded building barely compacted on either side by complexes. Its