The Wistful Voyage

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 08:10:57 -

The air tasted of copper and old rain. I stood on the bridge. The fog was thick. It swallowed the bow. It swallowed the wake. I held the wheel. My hands were steady. They had to be. The ship was not wood. It was bone. The planks were ribs. The hull was a spine. We sailed on a sea of grey mist. There was no horizon. Only the white. "Captain," a voice said. It was Silas. He stood behind me. His...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima