The Pale Circus

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 23:05:09 -

The Pale Circus

The letter sat on the table. It was thick, white, and smelled of damp wool. I had not opened it yet. I was cleaning my sword. The steel was dull. I rubbed it with a rag that had been my father’s shirt. The cloth was soft. It was torn at the hem. I kept the tear. It was a map of where the pain had been. I am a Warden of the Quiet. We do not carry guns. We carry silence. We carry the weight of...

0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare