The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 04:01:46 -

The Pale Garden

The hammer lay cold in my palm, its head heavy with the dust of three days’ labor. I held it up to the light of the forge, turning it slowly, watching the steel catch the flicker of the coal fire. It was a good hammer, balanced, true, but it felt like a foreign object in my hand, a tool that belonged to a man I no longer recognized. The smell of the forge was thick, a mixture of sulfur, wet...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews