Madsqueaky

The courtyard seemed to echo, to mock, my every step. It was screaming, "Who are you to enter here, through my doors so grand; to walk so proudly upon my tiles untainted by men? Who are you to believe you are justified in any way; that your presence may not hold offense to me and all my glory?" I tried to dismiss its spiteful taunting, but the humiliation was simply too much, coming from such a place meant for amusement. My gait was growing ever more hesitant and slow, my courage and pride faltering under the terrible judgment of stone. I am no fool, reader, so I stopped. Revising why I was there, I considered my surroundings. The vines we