The Wistful Saga

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-20 02:05:16 -

The Wistful Saga

I dreamed of the church. It stood on the hill. Stone skin. Grey. Pitted. The rain had eaten it for three hundred years. I walked up the path. Mud sucked at my boots. I was small. The door was oak. Heavy. Dark. I pushed. It did not move. I knocked. Silence. I knocked again. The wood groaned. A sound like a bone breaking. The door opened. Slowly. Inward. I stepped in. The nave was empty. Pews....

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