The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 16:59:10 -

The Distant Joke

The left hand of Silas Thorne pressed flat against the damp cobblestone of the cellar floor, fingers splayed as if trying to grip the earth itself. The stone was cold, slick with condensation that smelled of wet iron and old rot. He did not move. He had been there for an hour, perhaps two, the only light coming from a single tallow stub that burned low and sputtered in the corner. Above him,...

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