The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 12:55:26 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the canvas of our tent, a relentless, muddy rhythm that seeped into the bone. I sat by the dying fire, my fingers numb, watching the embers pulse like failing hearts. My brother, Thomas, lay on the other side of the tent, breathing shallowly. The fever had taken him. It was a slow thief, stealing his strength, his voice, his eyes, one...

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