The Distant Threshold
The rain had turned the road into a slick, black mirror, reflecting the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks that loomed above us like the sentinels of a forgotten age. I sat in the back of the cart, clutching my father’s hand, feeling the tremor of his pulse against my own, a frantic drumbeat that seemed to echo the thunder rolling across the valley floor. He was old, not in the way of years,...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen