The Distant Nightmare

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 06:48:11 -

The hawk sat on the iron gate. It did not move. Its eyes were black pits. I held the branch. It was cold. It was heavy. My hands shook. I am Sir Thomas Bradshaw. I am the Warden. I am a fool. The rain fell. It soaked my cloak. It seeped into my bones. I stood in the courtyard. The stone was slick. The air smelled of rot. And of iron. I looked at the hawk. I looked at the wall. I looked at my...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews