The Wistful Silence

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-22 09:34:13 -

The rain did not fall so much as it drifted, a grey mist that tasted of iron and old stone. I was twelve, or perhaps thirteen, though time had lost its sharp edges by then. I was walking the ridge line, that thin vein of earth separating the village of Ashford from the deep, churning dark of the Thornwood. My shoes were soaked through, the leather soft and rotting around my feet, but I did not...

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