The Iron Mill's Shadow
The sky over Blackwood was not a sky, but a heavy, soot-stained shroud that clung to the lungs of every living soul. In the year 1888, the city existed as a singular, pulsing machine of iron and steam, where the rhythmic thumping of the great pistons served as the only heartbeat that mattered. Arthur lived in the gaps between these machines. A man of slight build with eyes that seemed to hold a...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 6 Views 0 voorbeeld