The Wistful Grid

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 02:56:14 -

The Wistful Grid

The ink is dry before I can lift the quill. I am writing this in the dark, by the guttering light of a tallow candle, while the wind screams outside the window like a living thing. My hands shake. Not from the cold, though the air is bitter and sharp. They shake from the exhaustion of holding something that does not wish to be held. I have walked for three days. The landscape here is not kind....

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