The Distant Wound

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-22 18:21:54 -

The Distant Wound

The iron taste of the cellar air clung to my tongue as I climbed the spiral stairs, my boots scraping against the worn stone. I was thirty-two years old, a quartermaster in the Iron Ward, and for six months I had carried the weight of a silence that felt heavier than the coal sacks I hauled. My brother, Thomas, had died in the tunnel collapse last autumn, a tragedy the town had accepted with a...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima