The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 07:35:29 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a heavy, grey curtain that smelled of wet stone and old iron. In the small town of Oakhaven, nestled in the folds of a valley that had forgotten the sun, the air was always thick with this particular scent. It was a place where the fog rolled in from the river and stayed, settling into the bones of the houses and the clothes of the people....

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