Imaginary folktales

What numbness possess my littlest fingers. The frigid climate have impaired the running bloods and the heart beat with sluggishness. The clouds revolted, and the heavy showers of winter's cry rained down on the earth. The shinny snowflakes cast shadows on the surviving coniferous leaves and sunlight disperse. In solidarity, sleep befell the feeble mind and In dreamland were thy senses conscious.

A certain old bloke holds out a key, a key to unlock the portals to a sarcophagus. In the receptacles, a deepest reflection of sadness and misery hold forth the seeker accompanied with high fever and a painful cry. it's believed a curse laid in the image, for her stare was ghastly and agonizing.

Submerge in the ocean of thought, thinking why the stony sarcophagus reeled out human mucus off her nostril, the old bloke laughs and his face reformed to the ghastly image on the sarcophagus. Undaunted, a pseudo smile was made in return. He looked with such astonishment, moved swiftly and threw a dark bowl filled with coins and said," no change just dollar bills"

His hands were the key, the coin was the portal and the cloak he wore concealed what my imagination had thought to be a sarcophagus. I reached out to him and said I acknowledge, my quarters are change but sincerely it comes from my deepest human heart.....