The Wistful Mountain

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-17 22:32:28 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell with a persistent, rhythmic droning that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of the bones, a sound that erased the distinction between the outside world and the interior of the mind. I stood at the edge of the precipice, my boots caked in the black mud of the valley below, my uniform torn and stained with a red that was no longer fresh. My name was...

0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 5 Views 0 Vista previa