The Pale Tower

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 16:35:10 -

The Pale Tower

The oak in my yard died on a Tuesday, its leaves turning the color of bruised iron before the sun had even cleared the smokestacks of the Blackwood Mill. I had been standing by the fence, wiping the grime from my hands with a rag that smelled of lye and old sweat, when the first branch snapped with a sound like a bone breaking in a quiet room. It was not the wind; the air was still, thick with...

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