Better Than Here “So…am I supposed to talk to you?” Collin asked.GRIMMY POSTED THE SHORT STORY HERE.
There was no reply. Really, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Since when did giant doors speak? What any sort of door spoke? None, that’s what. But the doors were shut, large, ominous. They were framed by large pillars with a language Collin didn’t know, and then he noticed on the rock wall next to it there were newer looking inscriptions that matched those used by the Tribes. Maybe the Tribes thought these doors were something holy? Were the inscriptions warnings? A story? The half-feral didn’t know, he couldn’t read them.