The Distant Machine

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 05:20:17 -

14 October 1348 I write this by the guttering light of a tallow candle, the wax pooling like blood on the stone table, my hand trembling so violently that the letters bleed into one another, forming a script that is no longer quite my own. I am Thomas, thirty-two years of age, a royal guard sworn to the protection of the Duke’s estate, and I tell you, brother, that I am dying, not of plague or...

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