The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 02:22:42 -

The town of Oakhaven smells of wet wool and old stone. You are not human, or at least, you are not entirely. You are the thing that lives in the spaces between the ribs of the neighbors. You have a shape, mostly. A face like a pale clay mask, cracked along the cheekbones. Your hands are too long, the fingers jointed wrong, bending backward at the knuckles. You keep to the shadows of the eaves....

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