The Faded Photograph

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 09:36:27 -

The mud sucked at my boots with a wet, tearing sound. It was the only sound left in the world. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of more. I stood in the center of the village square, the cobblestones slick and black. My hands were shaking. Not from the cold, though the air bit into my skin like a knife. I was shaking because I had just seen him....

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