The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 04:27:07 -

The iron gates groaned. They were old. Rusted. Thomas stood on the threshold. His boots were muddy. The rain had not stopped. It never stopped in Holloway Manor. The house breathed. A low, wet exhalation. Stone and timber. Decay. He checked his pistol. The weight was familiar. Cold steel. The mechanism was clean. He had cleaned it an hour ago. Polished the barrel until it reflected his own...

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