The Distant Whispers

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 12:09:27 -

The meat was red. Not the pale, cooked pink of Sunday roasts, but a deep, arterial crimson. It sat on the silver platter in the center of the long oak table. The candles flickered. Shadows danced on the high walls of the Grand Hall. We were many. Forty, fifty souls. Dressed in fine wool and stiff collars. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of roasted pork. I sat at the far end. My place...

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