The Faded Attic

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-19 09:05:02 -

The Faded Attic

The rain hit the tin roof. It sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping a chalkboard. I sat by the fire. The wood was wet. It smoked. The smoke crept into my eyes. I did not blink. I was a man of the river. My name was Silas. I carved driftwood. I sold it to the townsfolk. They liked the shapes. They said they looked like birds. Or fish. Or ghosts. I did not care. I only cared for the wood....

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