The Pale Door

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:55:18 -

The Pale Door

The watchman at the gate, a thick-necked man named Silas with a coat that smelled of wet wool and rust, stopped you at the turnstile. He did not look up from the ledger in his hand, but his finger hovered over the ink, ready to make a mark that would bind you to this place for another shift, another breath, another small death of the hour. You stood before him, your uniform pressed tight...

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