The Wistful Silence

أضاف وظيفة جديدة Literature

2026-08-20 02:05:17 -

The fog had settled into the valley before I saw the house. It rose from the mist like a bone protruding through flesh, white and stark against the grey. I had walked for three days. My boots were torn. My hands were cracked and bleeding. I carried no map. I carried no name. I carried only the weight of what I had done. The house was a manor, old and heavy with stone. It stood on a ridge,...

0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة