The Wistful Silence

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 20:21:20 -

The wind bites through your wool. It is a cold that lives in the bone. You walk. The mud sucks at your boots. Each step is a struggle. The sky is grey. It is low. It presses down on the moor. You are leaving. You must go. You carry the weight of the order. It is a heavy stone in your chest. You look back once. The village is dark. Smoke rises from the chimneys. It is thin. It dies quickly in...

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