The Distant Ghost
The rain fell like a verdict. It hammered against the hood of the truck, a relentless, gray drumbeat. Elias gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His hands were shaking. They always shook now. The vibration of the engine did little to stop it. He was driving north. Into the mist. The road was a ribbon of black asphalt, fraying at the edges. The pine trees leaned in, dark...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen