The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-20 08:11:19 -

The bread was stale. It sat on the rough-hewn table, gray and hard as a stone. Elias picked it up. He broke it. The crust crumbled. It tasted of dust. It tasted of guilt. He was in the cell. The stone was cold. The air was thick. It smelled of damp earth and old blood. This was the Abbey. The year was 1348. The plague had taken the village. It had taken the monks. It had taken hope. Elias was a...

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