The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 11:59:56 -

The Distant Wound

The rain had stopped, but the air still held its breath. It was a cold, metallic hold. Elias Vane stood on the porch of the Blackwood Manor, watching the mist crawl over the fields. He was sixty-three. His knees ached when the barometric pressure dropped. It was a small, honest pain. He preferred it to the noise in his head. The house was a skeleton of brick and iron. The industrial age had...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews