The Pale Garden

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 08:27:44 -

The Pale Garden

The road was wet. Cold. It bit through Thomas’s boots. He walked. The fog rolled in from the valley below, thick and white. It smelled of rot. Of wet wool. Of old blood. Thomas pulled his cloak tighter. The wool scratched his neck. He did not stop. He could not stop. Behind him, the trees watched. Silent. Tall. They leaned in, like gossips. "Are you there, Thomas?" The voice came from the mist....

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