The Pale Garden
The dream was not a dream, but a fever that burned in the back of Major Thomas Bradshaw’s eyes, a haze of grey mist that clung to the walls of the estate like damp wool. In the sleepless dark, he saw the garden. Not the manicured lawns of his childhood, but a wild, tangled thicket of pale thorns and white flowers that seemed to pulse with a faint, bioluminescent light. He woke with the taste of...
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