The Pale Garden

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2026-08-18 20:38:56 -

The Pale Garden

The dream had no floor. It was a void of black water, and in the center floated a single, pale rose. Thornless. Stemless. Just the bloom, drifting like a white eye in a sea of ink. Waking, the air in the cottage was thick with the smell of wet wool and damp stone. The village of Oakhaven sat in a bowl of mist, a place where the centuries had not passed but pooled, like mud in a ditch. It was a...

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