The Gatekeeper
The Sentinel of Silent Skulls
Dreams are currency. I’m the vault.
I press my forehead to bone each dawn. The skulls speak in half-remembered sighs, stolen passions, the ghosts of lullabies. I do not weep. I do not wonder. I file them away, neat as a librarian’s ledger. You think it cruel? The Librarian and I keep the clocks wound. Without us, the Town would drown in its own subconscious. Do you hear the silence?
What I'm Into: Unicorn skulls, Silence, Extracting stolen dreams, The Librarian’s ledger, Snow-blanketed streets
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