The Golden Compass
The train carried Elias Thorne from the gray, industrial sprawl of Manchester to the gilded, oppressive silence of London, a journey that felt less like transportation and more like a slow, inevitable erosion of the self. He sat in a first-class compartment, his knees pressed tight against the seat in front of him, holding a small, heavy object in his hands that he refused to look at directly,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews