The Distant Blade

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 00:45:38 -

The Distant Blade

You are wet. The water is cold. It soaks into your boots. It soaks into your knees. You do not look down. You look up. The sky is a bruise. Purple and black. It hangs low over the town. The town is called Halloway. No one remembers who named it. No one cares. The shelling started at dawn. Now it is dusk. The air smells of cordite. And wet wool. And old blood. You are in the square. The fountain...

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