The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 23:34:33 -

The Pale Mist

The rain smells of iron. You know this because you have smelled it for three days. It clings to your coat, to your skin, a metallic tang that tastes of old blood and wet stone. You walk. Your boots strike the pavement with a heavy, rhythmic thud. *Thud. Thud. Thud.* The city is a blur of grey and black. Neon signs bleed color into the puddles. Red. Blue. Sickly yellow. You do not look at them....

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