The Wistful Skyline

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 13:24:14 -

The bread had gone hard. It sat on the iron tray, a pale, brittle disc, the crust cracking under the weight of the silence. I had been staring at it for an hour, perhaps two. Time in the Infirmary does not flow like water in a river; it pools, stagnant and thick, smelling of boiled linen and old blood. I am the Warden here, a title that sounds more like a keeper of ghosts than a man of law. My...

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