The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-20 21:49:12 -

The Pale Bridge

The rain did not fall. It hung. A grey curtain. A solid wall of water suspended in the air. I pushed through it. My uniform was soaked. The wool heavy. Cold. I am Sergeant Elias Thorne. I know this. I know the weight of my rifle. I know the taste of iron in my mouth. I was at the bridge. The old stone span. The one over the river Black. It is crumbling. Moss eats the rock. Lichen stains the...

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