The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 17:46:14 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall so much as it hung. It was a grey curtain, thick and damp, pressing against the windowpanes of the Holloway house. Inside, the air smelled of wet wool and old paper. Elias sat in the corner of the parlor, his hands resting on his knees. They were large hands, scarred across the knuckles, the skin rough like cured leather. He wore a heavy coat, buttoned to the chin, though...

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