The Distant Blade

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:40:45 -

The Distant Blade

The train smelled of rust and damp wool. I sat by the window. The glass was cold. It fogged where my breath touched it. Outside, the fields were gray. They stretched out like old scar tissue. I held my handbag on my lap. It was heavy. Leather, worn soft by years of use. Inside lay the object. The blade. No, not a blade. A pendant. A thin, silver sliver. It had belonged to her. Or so they said....

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