Shroudphoenix’s Haven

A writing blog that houses Shroudphoenix’s works. Updates at least twice per week, sometimes more.

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Hidden in the mountains lays a small wooden shack. No fires burn there, there is nothing to dispel the piercing cold. Even the nightbirds silent their lulling songs when they approach this forsaken place. But it is said, that at some nights, when the creatures of the darkness go out hunting, through the fallen shutters of this hut, one can almost see a silhouette moving inside.

In this dark, silent, place a hermit, the stories say, lives. A man who once thought that rebirth is something that can happen overnight, only to have life herself refute him. But he never gave up, and day by day, he reaches closer to his goal.

This story is told for ages now, it must surely be wrong, nothing can survive that long, the nearby villages whisper in-between them. What they don’t know, what they cannot know, is that this one was never a man. That in the cold lonely shack, there is light and warmth, and their source is not only one, but two. For this one’s eyes burn with red hot fire, after all, he was one of the Phoenixes, one of the beings that care not for how many times they will die, but care more for what they can give in those lifetimes. His fire is his passion, his embers his thoughts, and his will to live, is the will to be reborn. To be reborn to a storyteller capable of sharing his imagination with the same villagers that don’t even acknowledge him.

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-Shroudphoenix


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Same stray thoughts of mine plus a guide of what I update or add each time

Sometimes feelings get to much to keep bottled in, what escapes is here…

Well, I guess it’s self-explanatory what the above section is about… Fiction to feast your eyes upon, ’cause without imagination, how can we survive the world?

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