The Pale Mist
The fog was not white. That is the first thing you must understand, because if you think it is white, you have already failed to see the truth of it. It was the color of old milk, thick and curdled, swallowing the world one inch at a time until the ground itself seemed to dissolve into a gray nothingness. I stood on the edge of the cliff, my boots sinking into the wet, spongy earth, and watched...
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