The Golden Song
The bell above the door did not ring; it groaned, a low, metallic moan that seemed to come from the earth itself, shaking the dust from the rafters of the shop. Elias Thorne did not look up. He was hunched over his workbench, his fingers blackened with the soot of a hundred extinguished fires, his eyes fixed on the brass mechanism before him. The air in the shop, *Thorne & Sons, Horology and...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews