The Pale Door

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 18:51:56 -

The Pale Door

I was pressing the iron key into the lock when the fog swallowed the sound of my breathing. The key was cold, black with rust, and I held it with a grip that had turned my knuckles white, my fingers trembling not from the chill of the autumn air but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that pressed against the back of my skull. Behind me, the grain sacks sat in a neat row, their...

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