The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:20:25 -

The Pale Dance

I woke with the taste of iron and old rain on my tongue, the dream still clinging to me like wet wool. In the vision, I had been standing in the vast, echoing hall of the manor, my hands bound not by rope but by the sheer, suffocating weight of their expectations, watching the chandelier shatter into a thousand glittering shards that did not hit the floor but instead rose into the air,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews