The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 11:46:16 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll in; it sat, heavy and white as a burial shroud, pressing against the single pane of glass that separated the interior of the cottage from the winter world outside. Margaret Holloway stood before the mirror, her reflection a ghostly smear behind the condensation. She was fifty-two, though the years had settled into her face with the quiet persistence of silt in a riverbed,...

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