Castle walls cast long shadows. Stones seeped in history stretched in long battlements upon the coast. You could almost see the soldiers watching over the channel for white sails over dark seas.
Sometimes the locals swore it was more than almost.
A baker saw a gaunt face in her misted window. He pressed his finger to his lips and was gone.
A party of five laughing men walked into the pub. They took a table and ordered drinks, telling stories over pints of ale. When the young bartender asked them to pay the tab, they gave her coins marked with strange faces. The coins vanished in the morning, leaving only grains of strange white sand.
There was a legend they told, of another castle, built in the same place to watch the same waters, but in another world, a world of mist and shadows. Sometimes soldiers from one castle passed over to the other, recruited to keep the watch, lured by the promise of faerie gold.
And if you looked at the walls when twilight fell, when the mists hung low and golden light danced on the waters… Maybe you could see that castle, just for a moment.
Word Count: 198
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo credit to A Mixed Bag.