The Pale Door
The fire in the hearth had burned down to a bed of white ash, and the air in the cabin tasted of cold pine and old secrets. I sat on the floorboards, my back against the wall, watching the shadows dance in the corner. It was a heavy silence, the kind that presses against your eardrums until you can’t tell if you’re breathing or holding your breath. My wife, Elara, was gone. Not dead, not yet,...
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