The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 04:24:51 -

The dream began with the smell of wet stone. It was not a pleasant smell. It was the scent of old blood mixed with damp moss. Thomas Bradshaw stood in a corridor that had no end. The walls were high. They were made of black granite. They wept. Thin streams of water ran down the rock. They dripped onto the floor. Thomas wore a robe of grey wool. It was coarse. It itched. He did not scratch. He...

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