The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:32:00 -

The Pale Altar

The road is not a road. It is a bruise in the fog, purple and swollen, leading nowhere. You walk it anyway. You always do. In your hands, you hold the coat. It is heavy. Not with weight, but with silence. The wool is coarse. It smells of damp earth and old iron. You are a tailor. Or you were, in the world that left you behind. Here, in this gray place where the sky hangs low like a wet cloth,...

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