The Wistful Witness

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-23 06:51:03 -

The weight of the charcoal stick was wrong in my hand, too light, as if the graphite had been sanded away by the wind. I held it over the rubble of the altar, watching the German soldiers drag the silver chalices from the broken nave, their boots crunching on the shattered limestone with a rhythmic, indifferent clatter. I was thirty years old, and I had built this chapel to last a century, yet...

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