The Faded Portrait

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-20 11:33:39 -

The wind did not howl. It scraped. It was a thin, dry sound, like a fingernail dragging across a slate board, and it filled the hollows of the old manor where Thomas sat alone. The fire had died an hour ago, leaving only a bed of grey ash and the faint, sweet smell of burnt oak. Thomas rubbed his hands. They were rough, the skin cracked and bleeding in the cold. He was a man of muscle and...

0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση