The Pale Banner
The notice arrived on a Tuesday, the paper brittle as the winter skin of a birch, the ink smudged where the courier’s hand had slipped in the damp. It stated, in the cold, bureaucratic voice of the Academy, that my draft on the Pale Banner was rejected for exhibiting signs of hallucination, a term that felt like a slap across the face, a label that stripped my work of its truth. I was...
0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews