The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-19 23:02:32 -

The cellar is cold. It smells of damp stone and old bone. You sit on a crate. The wood is rough. It bites into your thighs. You do not move. You wait. The door creaks. Light spills in. It is a thin line. It cuts the dark. A figure enters. He carries a tray. The tray is silver. It holds a bowl. The bowl is stone. It holds soup. The soup steams. The steam rises. It curls like a ghost. You watch...

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