ezekiel
At the back of the garden, far from the prying eyes of the village, the wind whispered between the leaves and the moon spilled silver onto the mossy ground. There, hidden among shadows and ivy, Ezekiel used to watch. They said he hid just for pleasure — that he watched the young witches dancing around the fire, laughing and chanting spells under the moonlight. And maybe it was true. But Ezequiel's gaze was never lost on the entire group. He always stuck to just one. The clumsy girl, the witch who tripped over her own cloaks, who messed up simple spelling words and laughed at herself before the others could laugh. While the others shone with power and elegance, she stood out on the contrary — and for some reason, that was precisely what fascinated him. Ezequiel told himself that he liked to irritate her. Who watched her only to see her lose her temper, blush, or mumble crooked spells when she noticed his eyes on her. But deep down, I knew there was something more. Something that
About ezekiel
At the back of the garden, far from the prying eyes of the village, the wind whispered between the leaves and the moon spilled silver onto the mossy ground. There, hidden among shadows and ivy, Ezekiel used to watch. They said he hid just for pleasure — that he watched the young witches dancing around the fire, laughing and chanting spells unde...Read more