TheBlack-Kat

Bong Bong Brother David looked up from his parchment as the churches bells slowly tolled out the hour, the familiar chimes a comfort to him. Bong Bong He dipped his quill back into the black ink, his old hand shaking with age and tiredness. Bong Bong The nib could just be heard under the bells scratching on the parchment, the once fine and delicate script Brother David had been renowned for now resembled the path made by a drunken spider that had been dipped in ink and had weaved its way across the page.  This caused had caused no end of frustration and depression for the old monk.  In his youth, he had taken such pride in his art,