The Faded Alibi

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 01:44:21 -

The Faded Alibi

The dream smells of copper. It smells of old blood and damp wool. You are in a cell. The stone is cold against your cheek. You try to stand. Your legs are lead. They are not your legs. They are the legs of a man who has been fighting for three days. You look at your hands. They are red. Not with paint. With blood. You do not know whose. You wake. The straw is scratching your back. The air is...

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