The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 16:53:34 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a thick, grey curtain that smelled of wet stone and old iron, pressing against the high, narrow windows of the Hall of Silence until the glass groaned under the weight of the sky. I stood in the center of the room, my hands bound by the heavy, cold links of the chain that had been forged for me a lifetime ago, watching the dust motes dance in the single...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews