The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 12:23:48 -

The Pale Altar

The mortar crumbled under my thumb, releasing a scent of wet lime and old stone. I mixed more, the trowel scraping against the trough with a rhythmic, abrasive screech that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. St. Jude’s Chapel sat on the ridge, a squat, defiant block of grey granite that had weathered three centuries of frost and rain. I was forty-two, and my hands were stiff from the cold, but the...

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