The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:47:50 -

"You're late, Thomas." The voice came from the shadows of the oak doorframe. It was not a voice, not truly. It was the sound of wind through a keyhole, of dry leaves skittering across stone. But it wore the face of Arthur, my brother, who had been dead for three years. He stood there, pale as the moonlight that cut through the window, wearing the tunic I had last seen him in at the battle of...

0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews