The Pale Shadows

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 01:32:05 -

The Pale Shadows

I dreamt of the smoke again. It was thick. Grey. It tasted like ash in my mouth. I woke up. The room was cold. My father’s hands were shaking. He held a cup of tea. It was empty. "Do you hear that?" he asked. I shook my head. "The factory," he said. "It is breathing." I looked at the window. The glass was fogged. Outside, the sky was the color of old iron. This was 1924. The mills in Manchester...

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