The Wistful Incense

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 15:25:26 -

The chapel was full. It smelled of wet wool and old stone. I stood by the pillars, my form flickering between solid and smoke. The congregation hummed. They sang of endurance. I did not sing. I was the dust in the rafters. I was the draft under the door. I was the thing they feared in the dark corners of their own minds. I had lived here for a century. Not as a ghost. Not as a spirit. As a...

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