The Faded Dust

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 11:56:55 -

The Faded Dust

You are dead. No. You are waking. The room smells of wet stone and old iron. It is the cellar of the house. Or perhaps the house itself has become a cellar. The walls breathe. They expand. They contract. A slow, tidal rhythm. You press your back against the cold masonry. It is not stone. It is skin. Pale, taut, and trembling. Who is this? A figure stands before you. He wears a coat of grey...

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