The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 20:41:58 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall. It hung. A grey curtain of mist, thick as wool, suffocated the city. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the alley. His knees were wet. The mud sucked at his boots with a wet, sticky sound. He held his service pistol. The steel was cold. The air was cold. He breathed. The mist entered his lungs. It tasted of iron. A figure emerged from the shadows. Small. Hunched. A boy. No,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews