The Pale Mist
The sky broke. Not with rain. With light. A jagged white tear ripped through the grey fabric of the air. It screamed. A sound like tearing metal. Then silence. I stood on the ridge. My boots sank into the wet grass. The mud sucked at my heels. Cold. Soaking. My hand tightened on my rifle. The wood was slick. I could feel the grain. The metal was cold. Ice cold. Beside me, Thomas. He did not...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen