The Pale Garden

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2026-08-20 16:02:13 -

The Pale Garden

The bell above the door did not ring; it groaned, a low, tectonic shudder that vibrated through the floorboards and into the marrow of my bones, announcing the arrival of the first of the visitors to the asylum’s final ward. I sat behind the oak desk, my hands folded upon the cold surface, watching the dust motes dance in the single shaft of light that pierced the gloom of the room. The air was...

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