The Distant Journey

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 04:47:17 -

The bread was stale. It had been so since the last moon, but I kept it. I wrapped it in oilcloth and hid it beneath the floorboards of the infirmary. It was not food. It was an anchor. A stone in the pocket of my soul, heavy with the weight of what I had done. I am Thomas. Or I was. Now I am merely a hand that binds wounds. A shadow in the corner of the chapel. The abbey stands on the cliff’s...

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