The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 15:42:09 -

The Pale Garden

The cellar smelled of wet slate and old iron. Silas stood in the dark, his hand resting on the cold stone floor. He was not afraid. Fear was a luxury he had left behind in the mud of the eastern front. Here, in the sub-basement of the St. Jude’s Correctional Facility, the air was still. It did not move. It waited. Above him, the world continued its loud, frantic rotation. Guards patrolled the...

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