The Distant Nightmare

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:46:25 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain woven from the breath of the bog and the sorrow of the sky. I was twelve, though I felt older, heavier, my bones aching with a cold that lived not in the weather but in the marrow. My name is Thomas, but here in the village of Blackwater, they called me the Wolf. It was a name given by the elders, a title carved into the wood of my door...

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