The Pale Tale

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2026-08-19 23:33:24 -

The Pale Tale

The smell of lavender and damp wool hung thick in the air of the St. Jude’s Orphanage, a scent that had permeated the very bricks of the building until it seemed to breathe with a life of its own, a heavy, perfumed exhale that settled upon the skin of every child who moved through its long, dim corridors. I was twelve years old that autumn, a year in which the light outside the tall, arched...

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