The Chain of Five Souls
The fog did not roll into Blackwood Manor so much as it rose from the earth itself, thick and yellow as old milk. Arthur Pendelton stood at the gate and watched it swallow the road behind him. He had inherited the estate three weeks ago and already understood what his father had always known: the house was not a home. It was a tomb that had not yet decided what to bury. The debt collectors had...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews