The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 00:03:08 -

The Pale Garden

The mirror was broken. Not cracked, not chipped, but shattered into a dozen jagged pieces that lay in a silver pile on the nursery floor. I knelt, my knees aching against the cold oak, and picked up a shard. It cut my thumb. A bead of blood welled up, bright and red against the pale glass. I did not pull away. I held the shard up to the light, watching the droplet fall. It hit the floor with a...

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