The Distant Whispers

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 11:56:29 -

The dream was wet. Mud. Thick, black mud. It clung to his boots. It soaked into the seams of his coat. He could not move. The cold was a living thing. It bit at his ribs. He looked down. Roots. Pale, twisted roots. They wrapped around his ankles. They pulled. He kicked. The mud splashed. He woke up gasping. The city outside was grey. Rain tapped on the glass. Soft. Rhythmic. A heartbeat. He sat...

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