The Pale Garden

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2026-08-18 05:42:01 -

The Pale Garden

The road to the Holloway Estate was a vein of mud that pulsed under my boots. Rain lashed the sky, cold and sharp as a blade. I walked alone. The mist swallowed the world, leaving only the immediate, the tangible, the wet stone under my fingers. I was not a man of faith. I was a man of sight. I saw what others missed. The dead did not rest. They waited. They watched. I carried a lantern, its...

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