The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 01:23:16 -

The Wistful Ashes

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey veil over the city of Oakhaven, blurring the line between the cobblestones and the sky. I stood at the edge of the bridge, my boots heavy with mud, watching the water rush below. It was a cold, thin rain, the kind that seeps into the bones and stays there. I held the letter in my hand, the paper soaked and soft. It was the last thing I had taken...

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