Writing Gothic Setting



Two blackened, dead oaks stood towering over the cemetery, like sentries on guard. A chilled blanket of snow covered all but the dark stone headstones, breaking through the white with their broken remembrances. A small gateway of ancient, moss-covered stone lay ahead, and veiled mourners in their funeral clothing shuffled like sighs toward the grave. The wind hissed through them all, freezing the bones of the living and the dead. Light dwindled in the twilight and overhead clouds gathered like some terrible warning of things to come. In the silence the boom of distant thunder echoed through the decayed and dying woods. A gentle flurry of snow begins to fall.

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