The Distant Nightmare
The train did not run on rails but on a current of static that hummed against the bones of Thomas Bradshaw, a vibration so low it was less a sound than a physical weight pressing against his sternum, and as the carriage lurched forward into the grey, infinite fog that had swallowed the landscape of the Victorian era, he felt the familiar, cold certainty of a man who has forgotten why he is...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews