The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 02:23:55 -

The Pale Dance

The stone did not weep. It only stood. I stood in the court. The floor was cold. It bit through my boots. It bit through my soul. The vaulted ceiling rose above us. It was dark up there. Shadows pooled in the rafters. They looked like bruises. They looked like old blood. The Judge sat high. He wore black robes. They hung like shrouds. His face was a mask of marble. He did not blink. He did not...

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