The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 18:28:16 -

The Distant Joke

The mist smelled of wet ash and old iron, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad penny. Elias stood in the square of Oakhaven, his boots sinking into the mud that had turned to slurry by dawn. He was thirty, though the hollows under his eyes made him look older, a man carved from driftwood and regret. In his left hand, he clutched the jagged stone. It was cold, colder than the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews