The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 20:53:39 -

The Faded Bouquet

You sit. The chair is cold. The hall is vast. Stone walls. High ceilings. Dust motes dance. In the light. From a single window. You are still. Your hands are folded. On your lap. White gloves. Stiff. Clean. The air is thick. It tastes of iron. And old wax. You wait. The door opens. Soundless. He enters. Lord Blackwood. Tall. Dark. His eyes are voids. He stops. Before you. You look up. Your chin...

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