The Distant Crown
The rain was not falling so much as it was being forced into the earth by a wind that smelled of coal dust and wet wool, and I stood there on the muddy track with my hands bound behind my back by the rough, unforgiving hemp rope that had become the only thing I truly owned in the last three months, while behind me the heavy iron door of the transport van slammed shut with a finality that echoed...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen