The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:19:33 -

The Pale Mist

The mist rolled off the harbor, thick and white as wool, swallowing the iron ribs of the pier. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the water, his hands gripping the rusted railing until the skin turned pale. He was a man carved from the same silence that hung over the city, a heavy, immovable thing. The fog did not dissipate. It was a permanent fixture, a living breath that the city exhaled and...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews