The Pale Exile

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 14:10:58 -

The Pale Exile

The skin on his knuckles had split. It was a small thing. A raw, red line running across the joint. It bled when he gripped the handle. The wood was smooth. Dark oak. It absorbed the red like dry paper. He looked at it. He did not look away. The room was quiet. The air tasted of dust and old wax. The windows were high. They let in a gray light. It did not warm the floor. It did not reach the...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima