The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:07:56 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll in so much as it rose from the black mud of the estuary, a thick, grey wool that smelled of brine and rotting kelp, and it swallowed the village of Harrowgate until the only things left in the world were the stone walls of the manor and the sound of my own breathing, which felt too loud, too sharp, against the silence of the house where my brother, Elias, had stopped...

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