The Faded Sutra

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 21:58:40 -

The Faded Sutra

The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. It was a heavy, brass thing, ugly in its precision. It had no face. Only the hands. They moved. I watched them. The seconds were not time. They were bites. I sat in the chair by the window. The glass was cold. My fingers pressed against it. I was not a man. I was a shape. A hollow thing made of old wood and dust. I had been a clockmaker once. Or so the town...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews