The Pale Path
The fog does not roll in so much as it arrives, a thick, white wall that swallows the world whole, leaving you suspended in a void where the horizon has been erased and the only thing left is the narrow, winding path of packed earth and moss that cuts through the ancient, silent forest, a path that feels less like a route and more like a boundary, a thin membrane separating the living from the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews