The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 04:23:49 -

The Pale Mist

The dog was dead. Or at least, that is what the men in the blue coats said. They stood in the kitchen, their breath fogging in the cold air, holding their rifles like tools. You sat at the table. Your hands were wrapped around a cup of tea. The steam curled up, thin and fragile, like a ghost trying to leave. The dog lay by the hearth. It was a large beast, a mix of mastiff and something older....

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