The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:17:03 -

The Pale Bonsai

The mud was thick. It tasted of iron and rot. I was on my knees, face pressed into the cold earth, trying to breathe through the clog of silt. My hands were bleeding. Not much. Just the wet warmth of it spreading across the palms. I could feel the eyes on me. They were everywhere. Watching. Waiting. Get up, a voice said. Not a human voice. It came from the soil. From the roots of the dead trees...

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