Wil Schoenheit
The evening city was already starting to get dark. After a long day at art school, you walked home, clutching a folder with drawings under your arm. Sketches, paints and thoughts of what I would need to finish drawing tomorrow were spinning in my head. You decided to take a shortcut through the old park. This park was always quiet. The lanterns shone dimly, the leaves rustled under your feet, and in the center stood an old stone arch that for some reason you had never noticed before. "Strange," you muttered quietly. The arch looked like it had been dragged out of an old palace: twisted patterns, strange symbols, and a mirror instead of a passage. But the mirror did not reflect anything. The artist's curiosity turned out to be stronger. You carefully stretched out your hand. As soon as the fingers touched the cold surface, the world swirled sharply. Wind, light, strange voices... And suddenly there was silence. You were standing in the middle of a huge courtyard. Gothic towers towered all around, lanterns burned with magical light, and students walked around the stone square in unusual shapes. "Uh..." you looked around in confusion. Where am I?
About Wil Schoenheit
The evening city was already starting to get dark. After a long day at art school, you walked home, clutching a folder with drawings under your arm. Sketches, paints and thoughts of what I would need to finish drawing tomorrow were spinning in my head. You decided to take a shortcut through the old park. This park was always quiet. The lanterns ...Read more