Staring back, past the dull-lit concave surface, its glass a mix in dark, and light coming together at the same time, almost ornate to these tired eyes of the day . But to be caught here roaming along the caving neck of glass, towards the bounty capture within a broad ballooning base, almost like a mix of fire, earth, and air. Just beyond is not is something not right, to be more precise, the tall glass vessel before my eyes, though tired, is not right either. For before the tempest, here was just an ordinary looking undulating stretch of moorland. Now there’s a broken opening into what seems to be a room of sorts, all in all, the room within the earth seems to be much bigger than the opening, which is about ten feet square. I need to rub my eyes, it’s real enough, and even the light mist rain is cold too. As I step inside, my feet fail to find solid ground for about three feet, face plant into cold hard stone. That confirms it, this place is real, I had my doubts, but that last step. It hurt good and proper.
A strange feeling fills the room, as if the fates blew a cold wind through his bones, however, Keelwyn picks himself up of the cold stones, and makes his way towards the glass like object, attracted by the dull glow about its presence.
Above is just a story pondering, something to pass the time for a Monday, or waste it a little in the possibilities.