The Faded Ruin

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:39:08 -

The Faded Ruin

You are pinned against the drywall. The plaster is cold through your jacket. It smells of wet dust and old blood. Your lungs burn. You are holding the line. Or maybe you are just holding the door. It makes no difference. The noise is a roar. Not words. Just sound. A white wall of noise. It presses against your eardrums. It wants to get in. It wants to take your eyes. You keep your eyes shut....

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews