The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:15:20 -

The Wistful Petal

The watchtower is a mouth that does not close. You stand at the edge of the parapet. The wind bites your ears. It smells of wet stone and old blood. Below, the town of Oakhaven sleeps in a fog so thick it feels like wool. You are the Keeper. You are the wall. You are the eye that never blinks. "Another one," you say. Your voice is a dry leaf cracking on the ground. It is not a person. It is a...

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