The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:09:24 -

The Distant Joke

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the thatch of the watchtower, a steady, rhythmic tapping that sounded like time itself wearing out. I sat on the cold stone floor, my back against the rough-hewn pillar, and watched the mist swallow the valley below. The air tasted of wet wool and iron. My hands were wrapped in rags, stiff with dried blood and old mud. I did not look...

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