The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 01:58:19 -

The door was heavy. It smelled of iron and old rain. I stood on the threshold. My boots were muddy. The mud was red. It clung to my soles like a secret. I looked back. No one was there. Only the fog. The fog ate the road. It ate the trees. It ate the light. I turned. I stepped inside. The hall was long. The floor was cold stone. My breath made clouds. The clouds died quickly. I walked. My...

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