The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 16:52:19 -

The Pale Exile

The fox is dead. It lies in the alley behind the bank. Its fur is matted with city grime. A pale, blue-grey slush covers its ribs. The eyes are open. They are wet. They look at me. I do not look back. I turn away. My heels click on the wet pavement. The sound is sharp. It cuts the air. I am not human. I have never been human. I am something else. I have walked these streets for a hundred years....

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