The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 15:52:08 -

The Pale Mist

I woke in the mist. It was not a morning. It was a state. The white fog clung to my skin like damp wool. I lay in a bed of moss. The air tasted of iron and rot. I sat up. My hands were stained green. I looked at the ferns around me. They were not ferns. They were hands. Pale, elongated fingers. They twitched in the damp dark. I am a seeker of truths. I have spent my life in the archives of the...

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