The Distant Threshold

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-17 23:05:38 -

The room was a box. It had been a dining room once. Now it was a cell. The walls were white. The paint peeled in long, dry strips. Like skin. Silas sat. He did not move. His hands rested on the table. The wood was cold. The air was still. Dust motes danced in the beam of light. From the window. The only window. It was night outside. Or maybe day. He could not tell. The light was constant....

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