The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 14:31:39 -

The Distant Joke

The feast of the harvest moon is a thing of blood and bread, a sprawling, noisy tableau of joy that masks the rotting meat beneath the skin of the town. You sit at the edge of the long trestle table in the great hall of St. Jude’s, the wood groaning under the weight of roasted pork and the sweat of three hundred souls, and you feel the heat radiating from the tallow candles like a physical...

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