The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:40:49 -

The train smelled of wet wool and rust. I stepped off at the platform in Greyhaven. It was raining. Fine, cold needles. I held my umbrella. It shook in my hand. I was here for the job. Or the cure. Or both. The lines blurred. The building was a block of grey stone. It sat on a hill. It looked like a tooth. A large, rotten tooth. I walked up the path. My boots squelched. The mud was thick. It...

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