The Wistful Mountain
The bell tolled at dawn. It was a sound that shook the dust from the rafters and settled in my bones. I stood by the window. The glass was cold. I pressed my palm against it. Outside, the fog swallowed the manor. It ate the garden. It ate the moat. It ate the world. I am Thomas. I am the Captain. I am the keeper of the gate. And I am a fool. The manor is old. Older than the trees. Older than...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima