The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 15:25:30 -

The Faded Bouquet

The ballroom smelled of wax and old blood. It was a Tuesday. Rain lashed the high windows. The mirrors were cracked. Maren stood by the door. She wore a dress of black silk. The fabric clung. It moved like water. Like smoke. It was not a dress. It was a skin. A second self. She had worn it for three days. She had not slept. The house was a ruin. The Ashworth estate. Once grand. Now rotting. The...

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