prompt: sanctuary
word count: 103

It was quiet.

So quiet, that I might've been able to smell the wax of the candles sliding to the base of it, maybe even able to hear the wicks burning. It was odd, to see the scent of the red from the candles float in the air.

I hated it all.

I hated my synesthesia. One nerve would trigger them all. I tasted words. Heard colours, felt scents, it could go on.

But you know what I hated the most?

How it was always get triggered when you passed by that damn sanctuary, like it was cursed.

The sanctuary was my curse.