The Pale Tower

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-21 22:01:24 -

The Pale Tower

The rain had not ceased for three days, a persistent weeping that turned the clay path to our cottage into a slurry of brown mud. I sat at the heavy oak table, my fingers working the wool into a tight, unyielding knot. The loom in the corner stood still, its threads suspended in a web of dust and silence. My hands were the only things that moved. They were the only things that mattered now. The...

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