The Faded Bouquet

Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Literature

2026-08-19 16:57:17 -

The Faded Bouquet

The feast is a wound in the dark. You sit at the head of the long oak table. The wood is black and slick. Candles gutter in iron sconces. The air is thick with the scent of roasting pork and stale wine. Your children eat. They are quiet. They look at you with eyes that do not recognize you. Or perhaps they recognize you too well. They see the stain on your tunic. The dried blood under your...

0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu