The Distant Summer

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 18:31:35 -

The rain had stopped before I reached the gate. The mud was soft. It held my boots. I looked back at the village. Smoke rose from the chimneys. Thin. Grey. It mixed with the fog. The air smelled of wet stone. And old wood. I carried a sword. It was heavy. The steel was dark. It did not shine. I am a keeper of the peace. Or so they say. The law is a wall. I am the stone in it. But walls crumble....

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