The Distant Joke

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2026-08-18 19:50:01 -

The Distant Joke

The rain hit the thatch. It did not fall. It struck. I stood in the center of the hall. The air smelled of wet wool and old blood. My hands were bound. The rope bit into my wrists. I did not look at the crowd. I looked at my father. He sat on the high stool. He held a bowl of ale. The foam was white. He did not move. He did not blink. The crowd hissed. They wanted me dead. They said I stole the...

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