The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 15:34:35 -

The air tastes like copper and old rain. You are running, and your legs are heavy, as if you are wading through deep water that only you can see. Around you, the forest is not quite a forest. The trees are white, bleached by a sun that has no warmth, and their branches twist into shapes that look like hands reaching for something they cannot grasp. You do not stop. You cannot stop. If you stop,...

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