The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:38:32 -

The Wistful Ashes

The smell of the ash rose in the cold morning air. It was not a smell of death, as the town believed. It was a smell of bread. You stood by the window of the manor house. The glass was thick and warped, a relic of the old times. Outside, the snow fell in silent sheets. It covered the fields. It covered the graves. It covered the faces of the people who watched from the hedges. They did not...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews