The Pale Echo

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-22 07:50:38 -

The Pale Echo

The feast hall of the Abbey of St. Jude smelled of roasted pork and stale incense, a cloying mixture that coated the back of my throat. It was the Feast of All Souls, 1892, and the candles flickered in the drafty air, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls. I sat at the high table, my fingers wrapped around a cup of mulled wine that had gone cold, watching the Abbot raise his...

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