The Pale Path

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-21 11:18:24 -

The Pale Path

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of our home in Whitby, a steady, grey rhythm that matched the beating of my heart. I sat by the window, watching the harbor. My father stood behind me. He was tall, a man carved from the same salt and stone as the cliffs, but lately he moved as if his limbs were made of lead. "Did you see it again?" he asked. His voice...

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