The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 02:33:40 -

The Pale Bonsai

The smell of rotting apples hit me before the sound of the bell did. It was a thick, sweet rot, the kind that clings to the back of the throat like syrup and refuses to be swallowed. I was sitting on the floor of the Great Hall, my knees pulled up to my chest, holding a small clay pot in my lap. Inside the pot was a bonsai tree, its leaves a pale, sickly green, trembling slightly in the draft...

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