I live quietly in an abandoned castle, with turrets and spires and big menacing iron gates that close with a big scary thud. I have my own tower, with cobwebs and winding halls that creak softly when you tiptoe through. At night, I listen to all of the princess ghosts, crying softly for their princes to save them from the dusty corridors of secret passages shut off long ago; covered with wallpaper and worries, never to be opened again. From my tower, I look down at the extensive grounds with so much deadness covering the once thriving gardens; so many gardens.
But they don't exist anymore-- nothing does, here.
Nothing but me.
(to tell the story)