The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 06:21:47 -

The dream is always the same. You are standing in a field of ash, the sky a bruised purple, and in your hand is a red apple. It is heavy, cold, and pulsing with a faint, wet light. You bite into it. The flesh is not sweet but metallic, thick with the taste of iron and blood. You wake with your mouth full of copper and the taste of rust on your tongue. This has happened every night for three...

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