The Pale Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 21:48:30 -

The Pale Letter

It was an accident, I say. The glass slipped. It was not a punishment. 14th of October. The jar is broken. Pale shards on the floor. The moth is dead. Its wings are wet with a fluid that smells of copper and old pennies. I swept the glass into the waste bin. The Headmaster found me there. He did not look at the moth. He looked at my hands. He said, "Your motor control is degrading, Elias." He...

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