The Wistful Ashes

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 15:33:07 -

The Wistful Ashes

The soup was thick. It was cold. It tasted of iron and old pennies. Gareth sat at the head of the table. His hands were steady. He did not tremble. He picked up the spoon. He lifted it. The broth clung to the metal. It dripped. A single drop. It hit the wood. It spread. "You are eating," said the man across from him. The man was tall. He wore a coat of grey wool. It was heavy. It smelled of...

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