The Wistful Saga

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:00:20 -

The Wistful Saga

The hand was not mine. That was the first thing I noticed. I held it up to the grey, slushy light of the corridor. The fingers were long, pale, and trembling. The nails were chipped, painted a faded, dusty blue that had cracked along the ridges. I looked at the wrist. The skin there was paper-thin, mapped with veins like blue rivers in a dry delta. It was my hand. Or rather, it was the hand I...

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