The Distant Whispers

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 21:08:12 -

The iron gates of the Blackwood Foundry groaned shut, sealing out the rain and the memory of Thomas. He stood on the platform, his coat soaked through, watching the steam rise in thick, white plumes from the locomotive. The engine chugged south, carrying his brother away to the front. There was no handshake. No tearful farewell. Just the rhythmic clank of wheels on tracks, a mechanical...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews