The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 14:33:15 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a cold, persistent drumming that turned the cobblestones of the old guardhouse into a slick, treacherous mirror. Thomas Bradshaw sat by the dying fire, his fingers wrapped around a mug of tea that had gone cold an hour ago, watching the steam curl and vanish into the dark air of the room. He was a man of few words, his face carved by years of service...

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