The Distant Nightmare

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:18:24 -

The fire started in the eaves. It was a small thing at first. A spark. A whisper. Then the roar. Margaret stood by the window. She watched the orange tongue lick the dark wood. The house was dying. Not the people inside. The house. The walls. The beams. The memories nailed into the plaster. "Go," her mother said. Margaret did not move. "Go, you fool," her mother hissed. Her voice was thin....

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