The Pale Mist
The fog settles low. It clings to the floor. You are here. You are alone. The stone is cold. Your breath is short. You are a scribe. You work for the abbey. The master is strict. He watches you. His eyes are hard. He does not like your face. He does not like your name. You are new. You are from the south. He says you are a spy. He says you are a heretic. He says you do not belong. You write in...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior