The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 00:59:24 -

The Pale Exile

The jar sat on the table. It was thick glass, green as old moss, and it held nothing but air. I watched it. The dust motes swirled in the shaft of light that cut across the room. I was the only one awake. The house was old. The stones were cold. I had been here for three days. I came to buy salt. I am a salt merchant. I travel the high passes. I know the weight of a grain. I know the taste of...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews