The Pale Bonsai
The bell tower of St. Jude’s did not ring at noon; it exploded. The sound was not a sound but a physical impact, a hammer blow to the sternum that turned the air in the village square into something solid and jagged. I was standing by the fountain, trying to remember if I had locked the back gate of the bakery, when the bronze face of the great clock shuddered and split. Brass gears, black with...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen