The Pale Mist

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2026-08-20 08:11:07 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll in. It seeped up from the cellar, cold and damp, carrying the scent of wet wool and old iron. You stood at the bottom of the spiral stairs, your hand gripping the railing, the wood slick beneath your fingers. Above you, the house breathed. It was a deep, rhythmic exhalation that shook the dust from the rafters and settled it on the shoulders of the coats hanging by the...

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