The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 02:21:37 -

"Thorne." The voice came from the hallway, thin and sharp against the damp air of the parlor. Elias did not turn. He sat in the high-backed chair that had belonged to his father, the velvet worn to the color of dried blood, and stared at the orchid on the windowsill. It was a Phalaenopsis, or had been, before the neglect had stripped it of its dignity. Now it was a tangle of pale, waxy leaves...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews