The Pale Fracture

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 02:07:03 -

The Pale Fracture

The fire started in the roots. I saw it first as a smell. Acrid. Sweet. Like burnt sugar mixed with wet ash. It curled up from the soil beneath the pavement of Oak Street. The air was thick with the smoke of the incinerators, a grey fog that tasted of iron and old pennies. I stood on the corner, my hand resting on the hilt of my sidearm. My heart beat a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs....

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