The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 07:43:20 -

The Pale Mist

I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth and the sound of rain hammering the tin roof of the barracks. My hands were trembling. I looked down at them, pale and mapped with blue veins, and saw that the knuckles were swollen, the skin translucent as if the flesh were thinning away. I had dreamed of Arthur. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face a smooth, featureless oval of grey vapor,...

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