The Pale Bonsai
The cart rattled over the cobblestones of the Old Quarter, a sound like the grinding of old bones, carrying Elias and the thing that was not quite a thing. It was a vessel of pale, unglazed clay, cracked at the rim, holding within it a sapling so small it seemed less a plant and more a rumor of green. Elias, a boy of twelve with hands that were too big for his wrists and eyes that held the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen