The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 04:22:01 -

I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue and the distinct, crushing sensation that my hands were no longer mine, but rather two heavy, calloused stones tethered to my wrists. The air in the cell was thick, humid with the smell of damp stone and old sweat, a scent that had seeped into my bones so deeply that I could no longer distinguish between the prison and myself. I was not a prisoner, at...

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