The Wistful Crossroads

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 10:21:53 -

The axe felt like a dead weight in my hands, a slab of cold iron that refused to lift. I stood at the edge of the quarry, the air thick with the smell of rot and wet stone, and watched the ancient oak sway in the wind. It had been there for a hundred years, perhaps more, its roots digging deep into the limestone bedrock that underpinned the valley. I had come to kill it. I had come to finish...

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