The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:51:49 -

The rain did not fall; it hovered, a fine, grey mist that clung to the skin like a second, colder layer of flesh. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the precipice, the ground beneath his boots soft and yielding, a mossy spongy thing that swallowed the sound of his breath. In his hands, he held the object. It was a ceramic bowl, blue and white, glazed with a pattern of willow branches that had...

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