The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:27:52 -

The fire started in the kitchen. It began with a whisper of orange light under the door, a thin tongue of heat licking the air before the roar swallowed the silence. I did not run. I stood in the hallway, small and still, watching the walls sweat and crack. The smell of burning wood was sweet. It was the smell of home. It was the smell of death. My father was gone. He had been gone for three...

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