The Golden Greenhouse

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 13:05:56 -

The glass was green. Not the green of spring, nor the green of envy, but a thick, viscous emerald that smelled of wet copper and old blood. I stood before the door of the House of Glass, my breath fogging the cold air, and I knew I was already dead. Or perhaps I was a ghost. The distinction had blurred long ago in the exile of the mind. My name was Arthur, though that felt like a costume I had...

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