The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 08:32:34 -

The Pale Mist

I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue, the smell of wet earth and decaying leaves clinging to the air like a heavy, suffocating veil. The dream had been of the apple tree. Not the tree itself, but the splitting of it. I saw the bark peel away in long, pale strips, revealing the white wood beneath, raw and weeping sap. It was a beautiful, terrible thing, the way the wood shattered, not with...

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