The Distant Threshold

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 08:51:39 -

The bread is hard. It tastes of ash. I chew it. My jaw aches. I am Thomas. I am a soldier. I am old. My brother, Elias, is gone. He died three winters ago. Or maybe four. Time is a river here. It does not flow. It pools. It stagnates. We walk the black woods. The trees are tall. They scratch the sky. The sky is grey. It is always grey. I carry the loaves. They are heavy. They are warm. They are...

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