The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 15:01:33 -

The Distant Joke

The ink did not dry. It never did. It sat in the parchment like a pool of black water, trembling at the slightest draft, refusing to become part of the page. Elias stood before the high table, his hands stained to the wrists. The scent of gall and iron filled the small, windowless room. It was a smell that stuck to the tongue, a metallic taste that coated the throat. He was a scribe, a keeper...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews