The Faded Portrait

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 09:42:28 -

The mud sucked at my boots. It was thick, cold, and heavy. I pulled free one foot, then the other. The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the air still tasted of wet iron and old rot. We were in a cellar. The door was barred from the outside. I could hear the boots of the patrol above us, the rhythmic thud of leather on stone. They were looking for me. They were always looking for me. I sat on a...

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