The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 02:18:48 -

The Pale Garden

The rain hammered the glass of the cell window. It was a rhythmic, violent drumming that matched the beating in Elias Thorne’s chest. He sat on the metal bench, his hands cuffed behind his back. The cuffs were cold. They bit into his wrists with a sharp, metallic pain. "Is he dead?" Elias asked. His voice was a rasp, scraped raw by smoke and shouting. Detective Miller stood by the door. He did...

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