The Faded Photograph

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 22:11:22 -

The dream was of teeth. Sharp. White. Floating in a dark, still water. They did not belong to a mouth. They were separate. They turned slowly in the current, like stones. Wren woke with a gasp. The air in the cottage was cold. It tasted of damp wood and old ash. He sat up. His back ached. A dull, heavy pain. Like a bruise on the soul. He looked at his hands. They were his. Or they were not. The...

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