The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-21 22:25:42 -

The bread was hard. Caleb pressed his thumb against the crust. It crumbled. Dust of rye and salt. He tasted it. Dry. He was in the cellar. The air was thick. It smelled of mold and old iron. The walls wept. Damp seeped into his bones. He was a soldier. Or he had been. The uniform was stained. Mud. Blood. He held the loaf. It was the last one. His brother, Elias, would need it. Elias was...

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