The Golden Ritual
The glass bird sat on the mantelpiece. It was whole. It was gold. It was beautiful. Thomas watched it from the corner of the room. He was seven years old. His hands were in his pockets. His heart beat like a trapped fly. The house was cold. The house was old. The house was his. His father stood by the fire. The fire was low. The father did not look up. He held a ledger in his hands. The pages...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews