The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 03:24:29 -

The Distant Wound

The feast was a lie of smoke and grease. It hung in the air of the tunnel, thick and yellow. The lamps hissed. They flickered. The crowd pressed close. Shoulders touched. Breath fogged. They smelled of coal dust and wet wool. Mara sat at the end of the table. She watched. She did not eat. Her hands lay flat on the wood. They were pale. They were still. Across from her sat Elias. He was young....

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