The Pale Verdict
Elias Thorne sat in the dark of the mill office. The air was thick with the scent of wet wool and coal smoke. It was a smell that had seeped into his pores over thirty years. He did not blink. He stared at the glass jar on his desk. Inside, a pale moth struggled against the curved surface. Its wings were dusted with a fine, gray powder. It moved in tight, frantic circles. Elias watched it. He...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews