The Wistful Throne
The rain hammers the slate roof. It sounds like bones breaking. You are seven. You are in the attic. The door is locked. Or you think it is. Your heart hammers faster than the rain. You are fighting. You are fighting the dark. You are fighting the shape in the corner. It is not a ghost. It is your brother. He is holding a knife. He is not holding a knife. It is a stick. A broken branch from the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews