The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 20:39:28 -

The Distant Wound

I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue. It was not blood. It was the taste of the loom. The dream was always the same. I was in the Weave, that vast, humming cathedral of silk and sinew where the air smelled of ozone and old sweat. I was not a person there. I was a thread. I was the tension in the warp. I was the shuttle that flew. I opened my eyes. The ceiling was white. It was stained...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews