The Distant Ghost
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old English manor into slick, black mirrors reflecting a sky that seemed to have forgotten how to be blue, and within the damp, stone-walled kitchen, Elias Thorne stood with his back to the fire, his hands deep in a bowl of water so cold it bit into his skin, washing the last of the day’s...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen