The Pale Protocol
The walls of the lighthouse were thick. They were made of stone, rough and cold against the palm. Elias sat on the floor. He was twelve years old. His brother, Julian, was older. Julian was quiet. Julian did not like the dark. Elias wrote in his journal. The ink was black. The paper was white. It is raining, he wrote. The sea is gray. The fog is thick. We are alone. Julian stood by the window....
0 Comments 0 Shares 12 Views 0 Reviews