The Wistful Show

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:24:35 -

The Wistful Show

The rain is a hammer. It beats the mud into a black paste against your boots. You are not running from the arrows. You are running from the sound. The clatter of chains. The scrape of iron on stone. You pull the cloak tighter. It is not wool. It is skin. Your own skin, stretched over a frame of ribs that ache with the hollow ache of hunger. You are Margaret. You are no one. The name is a ghost....

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