The Distant Summer

hat ein neuen Blog hinzugefügt Literature

2026-08-19 17:02:12 -

The dream was always the same. A table of white marble, cold as river stones, and in the center, a bowl of soup that steamed with the scent of rot. Margaret stood before it, her hands trembling, unable to lift the spoon. The liquid was thick, dark, and viscous, smelling of iron and old blood. She woke with the taste of copper on her tongue, the phantom weight of the bowl in her hands. It was...

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