The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 04:55:52 -

The Pale Dance

The elm. It stood in the yard. Green. Always green. Elara dreamed of roots. Deep. Dark. Drinking. She woke. Sweat on her brow. The house was silent. Not quiet. Silent. A heavy, wet silence. The kind that swallows sound. She sat up. Her hands shook. Clawing at the sheets. The elm was there. In the dream. And in the waking. It watched her. Through the glass. It never changed. Not in winter. Not...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews