The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 08:40:01 -

I woke with the taste of iron and wet stone in my mouth. The air was thick, a bruised violet hue that did not belong to any sky I had known. I sat up. My hands were caked in mud that glittered with a faint, oily sheen. I was not in my workshop in Bristol. I was in a garden that should not exist. The hedges were made of twisted, pale wood, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic beat. The flowers were not...

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