The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 18:07:14 -

The Pale Garden

The dream was always the same. A garden of white ash. The air thick with the scent of burnt sugar. In the center stood a fence, high and pale, like a wall of bone. I was on the inside. My daughter, Elise, was on the outside. She was no older than six. Her hair was the color of dried milk. She pressed her small hands against the slats. I pressed my hands against the wood. The barrier did not...

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