The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 15:50:39 -

The Distant Blade

The salt air bit. It chewed the skin of my hands. I was old. My knees clicked like dry twigs. I stood in the tower room. Stone walls. Cold. Damp. The window was narrow. A slit in the world. I looked down. The moat was black. The water did not move. I held the knife. It was my body. Not a tool. Part of me. The blade was dull. Worn smooth. No edge. I could not cut bread. I could not cut meat. I...

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