The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-19 09:16:21 -

The Pale Shadows

The blood was cold. It ran down my wrist, thick and dark, smelling of iron and rust. I held it up. My hand trembled. Not from the cold. From the shock. The alley was narrow. Wet asphalt. Neon light from a broken sign buzzed overhead. Red letters. Faded. The air tasted of rain and garbage. I was a cop. I was a man. I was holding the key. My name is Elias. I am forty years old. My knees ache when...

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