The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 10:33:05 -

The rain did not fall; it hung, a suspended gray mist that smelled of wet iron and old roses, coating the stone walls of the Abbey with a slick, breathing skin. You stood at the edge of the cloister, your fingers tracing the cold, damp mortar, feeling the vibration of a bell that had not been rung in three centuries. It was a dream, or perhaps a waking, for the boundary had long since...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews