The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 09:20:01 -

"You are late." The voice came from the shadows of the hallway. It was dry. It was thin. Like paper scraped by a nail. "I am here," I said. My voice sounded small. It was a stranger’s voice. It was not my own. "Bring it." I held the tray. The porcelain was white. It was cold. The smell rose. It was thick. It was sweet. It was the smell of sugar. It was the smell of decay. It was the smell of...

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