The Golden Greenhouse
The iron lattice of the Victorian greenhouse groaned against the wind, a metallic scream that cut through the heavy, suffocating mist of the valley, and I stood at the center of the shattered glass, my hands trembling not from the cold but from the terrifying, electric realization that the ferns were bleeding. It was not water that ran from the severed fronds, but a thick, viscous sap, dark and...
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