The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:36:25 -

The Pale Mist

The rain hit the tin roof. It sounded like applause. I sat on the bench. My hands were still. They had always been still. Since the war. Since the mud. Since I came home. I am not human. Not anymore. You know that. I can feel it. The cold. The hunger. The silence. In the pit of my stomach. I am a hollow thing. A shell. Walking. Breathing. But nothing inside. Just air. And memory. And pain. I...

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