The Pale Mist

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2026-08-20 01:01:55 -

The Pale Mist

The dream was always the same. A white room, sterile and humming with the low vibration of electrical current. In the center stood a chair, bolted to the floor, its straps made of heavy canvas. In the chair sat a man who looked exactly like Arthur, but younger, his face unlined by the smoke of the past decade. The man in the dream was smiling, not with joy, but with a terrible, clinical...

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