The Pale Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 10:11:58 -

The Pale Letter

The ink faded. I watched it bleed into the parchment. It was a letter. My letter. Written by a hand no longer mine. I stood in the yard. The dirt was wet. It smelled of rain and iron. I held the paper. My fingers trembled. Not from cold. From fear. The seal was cracked. Wax, old and brittle. It looked like dried blood. I had sent this. Years ago. To myself. Or so I was told. The village slept....

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