The Distant Journey

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 22:58:37 -

The air in the cellar tasted of wet earth and old iron. I sat on the cold stone floor, my wrists bound not by rope, but by the weight of my own guilt. It was a heavy thing, this guilt. It pressed against my ribs like a stone in a shoe. I had stolen. Not bread, not coins, but time. I had stolen the years from a woman who loved me. Her name was Elara. She had come to me in a dream, or perhaps a...

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