The Pale Bonsai
The sky cracked open like a rotten egg, spilling a viscous, amber light that tasted of copper and old pennies on your tongue before you even opened your mouth, and you stood there in the courtyard of the manor that no longer existed in any map of the world, watching the vines of the great bonsai tree twist and writhe with a life that was not botany but something older, something that pulsed in...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 7 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen