The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:06:39 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain slicked the cobblestones. They shone like wet teeth. I walked. My boots were heavy. The leather creaked. It sounded like a bone breaking. I carried the box. It was small. It was light. It held the root. The city was stone. Gray stone. Cold stone. The towers pierced the sky. They looked like fingers of God reaching down. Or claws. It was hard to tell. I was a man of the Guard. I wore...

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