The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:51:28 -

The Distant Wound

The train smelled of rust and wet wool. I held my ticket like a talisman. It was thin. It was dry. My hands shook. Not from the cold. From the knowing. The car rocked. A rhythm. A pulse. Outside, the fields blurred into gray streaks. The industrial skyline of Oakhaven loomed. Smokestacks. Black teeth. Chewing the sky. I was not supposed to be here. But I was. The letter had summoned me. The ink...

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