The Faded River

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:05:15 -

The Faded River

The fog clung to the cobblestones. It was thick. It was wet. It smelled of iron. And old blood. Thomas stood at the edge of the pier. He held his rifle. His hands shook. Not from cold. From fear. A raven sat on the railing. Its eyes were black. Void. Mirrors. Thomas watched it. It did not move. It did not blink. It was a statue. Carved from smoke. The bird was there. It had always been there....

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