The Distant Crown
The iron bell rang. It was a dull, wet sound. Not the bright ring of a church. Not the clear tone of a dinner gong. It was a thud. It came from the high tower. It came from the dark. Arthur stood by the window. He was twelve. He was small. His hands shook. He held the box. The box was heavy. It was made of oak. It was bound in brass. The brass was cold. It bit into his palms. He looked at the...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare