The Pale Bridge

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:08:34 -

The Pale Bridge

The table is long. It is white. It is cold. You sit at the head. Your father is there. He wears a suit of black wool. It looks like a shroud. He smiles. It does not reach his eyes. There is food. It is not food. It is light. It is liquid. It glows on the porcelain plates. It hums. A low, vibrating thrum. It tastes of copper. It tastes of old dust. It tastes of the air before a storm. You pick...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews