The Distant Blade

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:07:27 -

The Distant Blade

The knife was in her hand. It was a kitchen knife. Small. Dull. It smelled of iron and rust. Margaret stood in the mud. The rain did not fall. It hung. A grey curtain. She could not see her hands. Only the blade. The handle was slick. Her fingers were white. They trembled. Behind her, the house burned. Not fire. Not yet. But the heat. It pressed against her back. A wall of warm air. It smelled...

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