The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 16:22:52 -

"You broke it," said the Warden. The voice was wet. It tasted of iron and stale bread. You look down. Your hands are trembling. They are not empty. They hold shards. Glass. Blue glass. It is not a vase. It is not a cup. It is a locket. Or a pendant. It was once whole. Now it is a mouth. Screaming. Silent. "Seize it," the Warden says. He does not move. His feet are rooted in the mud. The mud is...

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