The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:03:53 -

The Pale Mist

"You are dead." The voice comes from the mist. It is not a shout. It is a whisper. It cuts the air. You feel it on your skin. Cold. Wet. You do not turn. You know who speaks. You know the lie. "Look at me," you say. Your voice is a rust. Old iron. You cough. Blood hits the mud. Red on brown. You do not wipe it. You look at the ground. The roots of the tree are exposed. They look like fingers....

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