The Wistful Mirror

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-21 12:56:16 -

The mud was thick. It sucked at our boots. I held my brother’s hand. His fingers were cold. He bled from a gash on his forehead. The rain fell in sheets. It turned the street into a river. We ran. The bells tolled. Deep. Heavy. A warning. We hid in the cellar of the old mill. The air smelled of damp stone and stale flour. Elias sat on a crate. He wiped his face. The blood smeared across his...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima