Oh, hello! You caught me napping. Now where were we? How about an
excerpt from this strange prose poem called
City of Anapais:
Toward an ebon sunset of mist-enshrouded dusk in the rounded Temple of Thrais, along corridors of gold, porphyry, and silver rich beyond imagining, there stole the ancient shadows that were all of darkness and strange-seeming form. In the undying slumber of night, no tinkle of glass bewitched the eternal silence in the Temple of Thrais. No minstrel mimicked the fantastical lutes of ages past. All was silence in the Temple of Thrais as the shadows flitted about from room to room, their steps as of light itself. In the corridors of the temple, as the centuries rolled by, the dust collected in corners and crevices as the shadows wandered in silent vigil.
If you want to read more, then you need to take a look at this book:
Doughboy and Other Strange Tales
by
Don Broyles.
The link is right below in the Signature.