The Dungeon

In the dungeon, the muggy air swirls slowly. It is dark but not pitch dark as a starless night. On a late summer day, the breezes caress your skin till you fall asleep on the bench at the park. You wake up to realize it’s already past the dusk and you try to figure out the trail home. That kind of dark is the dungeon.

The humidity comes from the vapors that nearly fall back to its liquid form but quickly rise up as gas again. They never escape the dungeon; nor can new water elements come join. The humidity is itself, turning itself into itself time and time again.

The dungeon has been like that for a decade, since the day the goblin came and closed all curtains.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s