The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 01:04:49 -

The Pale Altar

The roof went off. Not metaphorically. It lifted. A shockwave of green and rust tore the shingles from the eaves of the White House. I stood in the foyer, holding a glass of water. It spilled. Cold. Wet on my socks. "Get down," I said. I didn't scream. I just said it. My voice was flat. Dead. The door burst open. Not kicked. Burst. The wood splintered outward. A man stood in the frame. He was...

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