The Pale Exile

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2026-08-17 18:51:29 -

The Pale Exile

The coat was red. It was not a bright red. It was the color of dried blood. It was the color of a bruise that would not heal. It hung on a hook in the break room of St. Jude’s Hospice. Elias saw it. He saw it every day. He worked the night shift. The air smelled of bleach and decay. The machines hummed. A low, electric drone. It vibrated in his teeth. Elias was a caretaker. He changed sheets....

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