Chatterbox: Inkwell

The castle is filled with flowers.

They peek out from every corner, and they are of every variety. Golden bulbs, long white-necked narcissuses, drooping forget-me-nots. You don't know where they come from, but they are certainly beautiful. Maybe they come from the hospital in the west wing, or maybe from the servants, preparing for the night's ball, or maybe from the alchemist's tower.

Petals fall to the floors, getting trampled by horses dressed in their finest ribbons, as guests arrive slowly, the wheels of their carriages rolling over the cobbled stones.

Candles are lit, as the sun slowly sets, and you breathe in the scent of flowers deeply. It smells like ash, and sweetness, and magic. You feel alive.

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This is a Castle. Here is the original: http://www.cricketmagkids.com/chatterbox/inkwell/node/398819. It is not by me.