The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:00:49 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed a relentless, hollow rhythm against the high, narrow windows of the chapel, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones. I sat in the vestry, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old incense, waiting for the boy. He was small, no older than ten, with eyes that held a terrifying, vacant clarity. He did not look at me. He...

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