The Pale Tale
The jar sat on the nightstand. It was glass. It was full. It was heavy. I held it. My hands shook. The liquid inside was pale. It looked like milk. It looked like cream. It looked like the bone of the earth. It was not food. It was not medicine. It was something else. Something old. Something wrong. I woke up. The room was dark. The window was open. The wind blew in. It smelled of pine. It...
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