The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 02:37:42 -

The Pale Dance

The clock ticks. It is a dry, wooden sound. It sounds like bone breaking. You are standing in the center of the room. The floor is waxed oak. It reflects your face. Your face is pale. Your hands are still. You hold nothing. You are empty. This is the dream. You know it is a dream. You know it because the air is too still. There is no breath. There is only the tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. You are in...

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