The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 06:36:12 -

The Pale Mist

"You look like hell," the stranger said. He didn't look up from the map. His hands were stained with ink. "And you smell like wet dog and bad decisions." I didn't answer. I just walked. My legs were lead. My head was a drum. The mist was thick, a gray wool that clogged my teeth. It tasted of iron. I had been walking for hours. Or days. Time was a broken clock face here. The hands spun. They...

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