The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 02:45:18 -

The Pale Garden

The dream always starts with the soil. It is red, wet, and warm, tasting of iron and old pennies. You are standing in a garden where the air is thick with spores, and white flowers, pale as bone, push through the dirt. They do not grow from roots; they grow from the blood of the fallen. You reach out to touch one, and your hand passes through the petal, dissolving into ash. You wake with the...

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