The Wistful Show

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:58:01 -

The Wistful Show

The fog in Oakhaven did not lift so much as it settled into the bones of the houses, a persistent, grey dampness that smelled of rotting wood and old iron. I had been walking for three days, my boots worn thin against the cobblestones, my body aching with a fever that felt less like illness and more like a slow, creeping dissolution of the self. The townspeople whispered as I passed, their eyes...

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