The Pale Mist

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2026-08-17 23:55:51 -

The Pale Mist

The fog was thick. It pressed against the glass of the lighthouse. Margaret watched it swirl. She did not blink. The light swept in a slow, yellow arc. It cut through the white void. Nothing came out. Nothing returned. She was the keeper. The lighthouse was a tomb. It was also a cage. She had chosen the cage. That was the joke. That was the sin. The storm had lasted for three days. The wind...

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