The Distant Garden

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2026-08-20 17:17:10 -

The garden was not empty. It was full of things that had once been alive and were now merely broken. You stood at the iron gate, the rust flakes falling onto your boots like dry snow. Your hands were stained green to the wrist. Not with dirt. With sap. With the lifeblood of the yew. You had been cutting them down. One by one. For three days. You remember why. You do not remember how you...

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