The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:04:27 -

The Pale Mist

The fog came in at dawn. It swallowed the cobbles. It took the church spire. I stood on the hill. The cold bit my hands. I held the stone. It was warm. It was my own. The village slept below. Shadows moved in the mist. They were not ghosts. They were men. They carried torches. The light flickered. It danced on the wet grass. I watched them. My heart beat fast. A drum in my chest. I did not run....

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