The Distant Journey

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 18:43:51 -

"You're dead, Cal." The voice was close. Too close. It smelled of wet wool and stale tobacco. Cal didn't turn. He kept his eyes on the frost. It was crawling up the window pane. Thin, white veins. They looked like rivers. Or nerves. "Who's talking?" Cal asked. "I am." Cal closed his eyes. The room was cold. The fire had died an hour ago. He hadn’t fed it. He was tired. So tired. His bones felt...

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