The Pale Path

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 20:58:19 -

The Pale Path

The lantern was cold in your hands, its glass sweating a thin film of condensation that smelled of damp wool and old iron. You held it up against the stone wall of the inner courtyard, the beam cutting a pale wedge through the darkness where the orchid sat in its cracked terracotta pot. It was a fragile thing, the flower, its petals the color of bone, trembling in the draft that seeped through...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews