The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:08:48 -

The smell of burnt sugar and lavender hung in the air, thick as a shroud. It was the Feast of All Saints, and the village of Oakhaven had gathered in the town square to honor the dead. The bonfire roared, a red eye staring into the darkening sky. Margaret stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands wrapped tightly around a small, leather-bound book. The cover was worn smooth, the edges frayed...

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