The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 16:20:20 -

The Pale Mist

The mist sat low. It clung to the cobblestones of the city like a shroud. I stood alone on the corner. My coat was damp. The air tasted of coal and iron. It was the year 1914. The world was holding its breath. I was a man of the law. Or so they said. I wore the badge. I carried the gun. I kept the peace in a district that had forgotten what peace felt like. The men in the alley were not...

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