The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 19:50:17 -

The Pale Garden

The rotunda of Blackwood Asylum smelled of wet plaster and old fear, a scent that had seeped into the very stones over the last decade of neglect. I stood alone in the center of the circular hall, the silence pressing against my eardrums like deep water, my hand resting on the hilt of my service revolver not out of necessity, but out of habit. I was there to secure the site for demolition, a...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews