Our cavernous rooms are walled with sharp stone, crusted with molluscs. We sit weaving our stories, amongst seaweed wreathes that dance in the slow current. Sometimes we wait for years, for someone brave or foolhardy enough to visit us. Someone willing to venture into the dark waters of imagination.
Perhaps that person is you. Can’t you hear our song? Go ahead, dip your toe in. Take a step. Why not another? This is a journey you will not forget. Give up your secrets. Tell us your stories. Listen to our lies.
Oh, and please… Take care you do not drown.
By Antonia Rachel Ward