The Golden Oath

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-17 21:34:23 -

The Golden Oath

I dreamt of hands. Just hands. Pale. Thin. Knuckles like dried twigs. They moved in the dark. They made shapes. I saw them clearly. I knew whose they were. It was Arthur. My husband. He was dead. Ten years dead. Yet I saw his fingers twitch. I felt the cold of his skin. I woke up gasping. The air in the room was stale. Dust motes danced in the moonlight. I looked at my own hands. They were...

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