The Pale Bridge

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 20:20:56 -

The Pale Bridge

The water was black. Not dark. Black. Like oil. Like tar. Like the inside of a closed eye. It sat still in the cellar. It did not ripple. It did not breathe. I stood on the stone step. My boots were wet. The cold bit my ankles. I looked down. I saw myself. Not my face. Not my body. My self. The thing that thought. The thing that remembered. It stared back. It knew me. I knew it. My name is...

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