The Pale Tale

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:27:06 -

The Pale Tale

The air in the Ward tasted of copper and stale lavender. I looked at my hands. They were not mine. They were large. Veined. The skin was tight over the knuckles, yellowed at the edges like old parchment. I flexed them. They obeyed. "Mr. Hale," the nurse said. She was young. Her face was a mask of polite concern. "You’ve been asleep for a long time." I did not answer. I looked at the bed. It was...

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