The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 14:16:12 -

The rain fell on the stone. It was cold. You stood in the courtyard. The walls were high. They were grey. You were alone. The air tasted of iron. And dust. You were a sinner. Or so they said. The village watched you. From the windows. Their eyes were hard. Like flint. You did not look up. You looked at your hands. They were stained. With soot. And blood? No. Just dirt. You were a prisoner. Of...

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